I’m fascinated by people who dare to be different. No matter where I go, I’m looking for that “extra spark” in the crowd that catches my attention. And, when it comes to sparks, dog shows can be the Fourth of July!
Trend-setters and fashion plates? We don’t always think of ourselves that way, but dog lovers are a walking smoragboard of invention, attitude and daring creativity … Take Mavis Oppenheimer, for example.
You don’t know Mavis, because she just dropped into this story a minute ago, asking if I saw her take the Breed at Westminster. I tried telling her there’s no way I could have seen her take the Breed at Westminster, because, first of all, I don’t know what breed she’s talking about – and, second, she’s a figment of my imagination. But, that doesn’t stop Mavis. “Don’t be silly, darling, you had to see me. Everybody who is anybody was there!”
I try telling her the only one who thinks I’m somebody is my own mother, but Mavis is getting stronger. “Darling, I’ll forgive you – just this once. But, don’t make a habit of pretending you weren’t there the night Blanche Jacobus went flying across the floor on her belly right in front of the cameras. You were there. I saw you!”
It occurs to me that Mavis is talking about a scene from my novel, The Blue Ribbon. Blanche has tripped and gone flying across the floor in a most ungracious manner and the cameras have caught it all. Making matters worse, the cameras belong to the wildly successful TV show of her friend (and nemisis) Esmeralda von Havenberg, sitting in her gold-plated wheelchair, taking evil delight in broadcasting Blanche’s embarrassment to laughing viewers eating popcorn and drinking beer in living rooms all across America. Life in the show ring can be tough to navigate, but Blanche is a survivor: The next day everyone is talking about that sparkling pink dress she designed especially for the occasion – you know: the one that caught the lights so perfectly for the occasion???
“So, Mavis,” I say, ignoring any logic (or lack of it). “You took the Breed that night.”
“Yes, darling,” she says, averting her eyes. “It was one of the greatest nights of my life.”
“It was?”
“I’ll remember it as long as I live!”
I try reminding Mavis that she lives only in my mind and her life is entirely at the mercy of my unpredictable whims.
“Don’t even think it!” she gasps, pointing at me as she puts the other hand on her chest; shock and awe skittering across her face. But, Mavis doesn’t have to worry. By now, I’m wondering what happened on the “greatest night of her life.”
“It was at the hotel,” she said. “I was there in my room. Standing room only! Laughter bouncing off the walls and champagne flowing like water!”
“Sounds wild,” I said, trying to picture the Mavis before me as a party girl.
“OK, maybe I was alone,” she admitted. “But, all of a sudden, I was feeling a little sick.”
(All of a sudden, I get the idea Mavis can’t hold her champagne).
“I was in the bathroom hanging onto the sink and – wouldn’t you know it – I just happened to look out the window. I mean, I wasn’t being nosey or anything. Their rooms were right across from mine in the next hotel building and it wasn’t my fault I could see everything.”
“What did you see?’ I asked, curious now.
“Well, for one thing, I saw Blanche dancing around her room in that pink dress of hers. And a few stories down, I saw Esmeralda tossing something out the window.”
How did any of this fit into the article I was writing for ShowSight, I wondered?
“Well, it occurred to me,” Mavis explained, “that Blanche should have been a little more . . . shall we say . . . subdued after what happened?”
People have different ways of dealing with things, I thought to myself, and, after all, we are talking about dog lovers, right? “Maybe she was trying to forget about it,” I offered. “You know, shakin’ her booty after falling flat on her face like that. So, what did you do on the greatest night of your life?” I pressed.
“Oh!” Mavis exclaimed. “That! Well, I flicked off the light and stood there in the dark for a while, just watching. Blanche was dancing around her room – Foxtrot! Cha-Cha! Samba! She was incredible!”
“I’m sure she was,” I said. “She has that certain flair that so many dog show people are known for,” I said, picturing big Blanche, with her big hair, dancing to Gloria Gaynor singing I Will Survive.
“I’m telling you, that moment changed my life,” Mavis said, a sudden, unexpected reverence coming over her.
“It did?”
“Yes,” she sighed peacefully. “I figured, if that woman could dance about it, after being so humiliated in front of millions of people like she was, well, then, maybe I could get past a whole year of dashed hopes and shattered dreams. And, well, maybe I could go back home and face everybody back at my old job at the grooming salon, and …”
“Mavis,” I said, seeing her in a new light. “You didn’t really take the Breed at Westminster, did you.”
“No,” she said quietly, looking at the floor. “My dog and me just weren’t good enough for the big time, I guess.” Then, slowly, she raised her head. Chin up, she looked right at me, wiped away a salty tear, and put on her bravest smile…. “But, at least we dared to be different.”