As I’ve mentioned, Planet Lippstone is a No-Politics Zone. But I’m reminded of that adage about some folks voting for a president solely on whether the candidate would be fun to drink with.
Which brings me to this week’s Westminster Kennel Club dog show. It’s a good thing I wasn’t a judge. Because I would’ve picked the cuddliest specimen I would most want to sleep with. The one with personality. Not perfection.
Don’t get me wrong; a dog’s a dog, and by rights, I adore all dogs. And I know Westminster is all about breeding and lineage. La-di-da.
But have to say I’m disappointed but not surprised by this year’s winner, Malachy the Pekingese.
Let’s be honest: At his photo-op, he looked like an earmuff stuck in a bowl.
Hey, I’m sure he’s a great guy, and I repeat: I love all dogs.
But year after year I watch as breeds that make me drool — Labradors, bloodhounds and Great Pyrenees and golden retrievers and Boston terriers show up, and good-naturedly go through the paces.
They’re prodded and pulled, getting a bigger going-over than we hoominz get at the doctor. What’s to check? They all look perfect to me.
It’s nice to know they’re all best of their breeds. And some dog’s dogs, if you will, like an Irish setter and a Doberman and a dachshund (yay, Ginger!) won their group this year.
But their chances of becoming top dog? Fuggedabowdit. A dog that looks like your average family pet never seems to stand a chance. More often than not, these beloved breeds lose out to something that is so manicured, it looks like a hedge with eyes.
Except for Uno the beagle. I was so thrilled when he won a while back. A pooch we could identify with for a change.
Please, judges. Even the Academy Awards folks aren’t quite as tunnel-visioned. Can’t a regular old breed get a chance for a change?
Or am I barking up the wrong tree?
What about you? Were you howling out of joy — or disappointment?