I was at a dog show in Bloemfontain — it was about 5 – 5:30am.

The dog show starts at 08h00  but you need to get there and set up and all this shit that sane people who do not go to dog shows just cannot understand.

The entire premise of dog shows is weird — it defies imagination.

I was once at a dog show which was raining so hard, I had to sit in the car with my dog.  No one chickens out of a dog show — but it was raining, like Noah’s Ark raining and I was just “fuck this” I will sit in my car until I was called.

I was showing Boston Terriers at the time, which really just need a shammie to wipe them off and you are good to go.  Easy squeezy lemon what ever rhymes with squeezy.

I sat in my cat as the heavens emptied onto the earth and watched a woman fire up the generator to fire up her hair dryer to do the final touches to her poodle.

So here is the thing — dog shows do not stop when rain falls from the heavens.  I sat and listened to this generator power up – it sounded like Eskom Level 3 output.  She dried this dog and got him sorted.

Then the dog needed to go into the ring.  Dog shows aren’t exactly hard core — but rain or shine this shit carries on. All this woman’s work, and she probably woke up at 3am to start this prep was totally washed out in about 12 seconds.

Anyway back to me and hearing about Princess Diane’s death.

We were showing Staffordshire Bull Terriers at the time — which are really easy dogs to maintain.  Quick wipe and you are done — add some vaseline to their nose and you are at the high end of maintenance.

Our SBT was pied and mainly white — so when he ran across a muddy field I had to take him and put him in the shower with me — it was just easier — then dry him off and he was good to go.   The white had to be white — until he walked in the muddy ring and was brown.  You had to be seen to actually make an effort.

He had slept the night and we needed to prep, so I took him to the field for a run — we had enough time to wash him or what ever and still get to the grounds on time.  We being me, but I am saying me like there was a fucking village behind this bullshit.

My dog was running off lead of a field.

He saw a bird and really started to run.

Like Forrest Gump run and does not slow down and runs 12 states.

I was screaming and running after him — his name was Willy — so I was screaming WILLY, WILLY, WILLY and I was running at more pace than I had.

Keep in mind it is a dead quiet morning.  Me screaming Willy in a field in the dead of the morning in Bloemfontein. Not sure that people grasped the context.  I was shit scared my dog would run off the field and keep running to Zimbabwe.

My partner was on the other sided of the field screaming that Princess Diane had died and he had to keep screaming louder because I was screaming Willy and running and thinking I was having a freaking heart attack —- it was a very confusing time.

Where were you?