The Westminster dog show has been pre-empted on my TV. Not by my cable company. By my dog, Tupelo.
He’s pretty mellow for a beagle/Jack Russell mix, which is what we think he is — a generally high-strung combination. As mentioned, he’s survived heart worm, BB pellets, an apparently not-so-great neutering before we adopted him that causes him annoyance.
He’s so chill at the vet’s, he melts in her arms and lets her do almost anything.
So we turn on Westminster last night, relishing the onslaught of cuteness. Before we can focus, the noise starts. Not the beeping of the smoke alarm; more like wailing.
Tupelo’s eyes are locked on the contestants. His pitiful whining won’t quit. Like he’s in pain. Belly rubs and other distractions only work momentarily until he sees the screen and starts anew.
For everyone’s sanity we turn it off.
This is fairly mystifying considering his behavior at the dog park. We theorize the dogs on TV are different because they’re in his house, his domain. Can’t have that.
Since he can’t actually tell us, we figure it’s as good an explanation as any.
Of course, we could always watch on a laptop and keep it out of his sight. But truthfully, we’d rather just watch him.