I was on a dog show. We started at 6:30 am to drive to Nantes. We were on the road for 3 hours and had some problems to find the area of the show. Butt we arrived timely.
With the moment I jumped out of the elephant skater I was a stinker. Not because I had still the farting problem, I was just cranky.
Mom checked if that’s really me or if someone had interchanged the Weim with a komodo island monitor under way, but yep it was me and me was narky and trimmed to trouble. I had a “ridge” on my back the whole time and I looked like a shoe brush.
As we entered the hall we saw that we have to wait a while till we could enter the ring. We tried to be considerate and decided to wait in a distance to the ring, because the Weimaraner turned into a Barkeraner and I can be very, very loud. Like a starting Boeing. Or an earthquaking. The music they played there made me completely mad, I don’t know if a dog show needs loud music, the noise level is anyway on the limit. Butt anyway. To wait upstairs and on a quiet place, my friends, was completely wrong, because as the judgement started for my breed we noticed and heard it not and we couldn’t enter the big stairway fast enough and it needs some time to maneuvre a pissed Weimaraner accident-free through all the dogs and peeps.
There we were. TOO LATE. The judge refused to judge me. Mom tried to explain and asked him, but he said, that’s not possible. Ok, the judge makes the judgement and we have to accept it. The circumstances were inconvenient but at last it was our fault. Too late is too late, the horse has bolted.
We were very sad, that we made the long journey in vain and the return was very silent.
I tried to cheer up my staff a little and I buried the show, the trouble and this haunted day anywhere alongside of the national road N166.