Preened purebreds need not apply – Scrufts is a show for dogs who may not have pedigree, but are the best chums in the world
WHILE MOST dog shows are all about pedigree and privilege, the Scrufts dog show – held at The Argory, near Moy in Co Armagh – was a celebration of the common canine. As the name suggested, even the scruffiest mongrel was welcome. The event was part of a growing worldwide trend for alternative dog shows, where animals are not rewarded for perfect breeding, but for their skills, natural good looks and all-round charm. There are often prizes for the “prettiest bitch” and the “most handsome dog”, for the dog with the waggiest tail, or for the winner of the sausage and cake race.
So on Sunday afternoon there was no last-minute primping and polishing, no back-combing of fluffy tails or trimming of unruly whiskers. This was dog democracy. Shaggy dogs, lanky dogs, lop-eared dogs and even one-eyed dogs took to the show ring with pride, prancing round with their owners to the sound of Abba’s Dancing Queen. One very small girl, sucking busily on her soother, tottered round with her even tinier puppy. “It’s very important to smile,” called out the master of ceremonies, the trophies and rosettes ranged on a table in front of him. It wasn’t clear whether he meant the dogs or their handlers, but everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves.
Other dogs sat politely on the sidelines, waiting their turn. Mollie, a tiny two-year-old shih tzu, was glammed up for the day in a powder-pink harness. It seemed that she had taken the MC’s advice to heart: her toothy underbite gave the impression that she was grinning fiercely. So what has Mollie got to make her stand out from the other dogs? “Definitely her teeth,” said owner Aimee Mullen, aged 12.
Alexander Greer-Sayer (9) already had a rosette for his dog Freda, a chocolate labrador/ springer-spaniel cross. The frisky former rescue dog took third place in the medium dogs category. “Freda is my best friend,” said Alexander, from Magherafelt. “She pulls me up the stairs when I’m tired, and she comes to watch me at football training. Sometimes she’s naughty and eats the laces on my trainers, but I still love her.”
The setting of the dog show was idyllic: a lush, well-manicured lawn in front of the Argory, a neo-classical 19th-century mansion, now a National Trust property. Many people had brought picnics and deck-chairs, making a day out of the occasion. Sadly though, not every dog was well-behaved. My own dog, Rudi, a one-year-old liver-spotted dalmatian, considerably lessened his chances of a prize by ripping the ribbon marking the perimeter of the show-ring and running away with it in his teeth. A black and white mongrel, sitting neatly on his haunches, looked on with disdain. “That’s it, I am never going to a dog show again in my life,” said my 15-year-old son, Aaron, after being dragged several times around the ring by an over-excited Rudi.
A fellow dalmatian-owner came over with his dog, Rico, to sympathise. “That’s just typical behaviour for Dalmatians,” said the man, who, perhaps understandably, wished to remain anonymous. “You put so much effort into training and socialising them, and then you come somewhere like this and it all goes out the window. I’m exhausted and embarrassed myself.”
Local man John McCullough – a former judge on the TV show One Man and his Dog – had the tough job of picking winners from the extraordinary range of animals parading around the ring. In a mainstream dog show, such as Crufts, judging decisions would be made according to ideal breed characteristics, taking in everything from muzzle to coat to the size of the dog’s eyes.
But at Scrufts, a different approach was called for. “Really, it’s just a matter of my own personal preference,” confided McCullough. “Mongrels, crosses – they’re all welcome here. When I’m judging, it’s a case of something catching my eye, whether it’s the appearance of a dog, or the way it carries itself. Some dogs have a certain quality to them that keeps drawing your eye back. Those are the dogs that I’m picking as winners today. But it is very subjective of course. Everyone thinks their dog is the best, and you’ll always get people thinking, why didn’t he pick mine?”
Afterwards, dragging Rudi back to the car, we weren’t too worried about the lack of prizes: we were simply glad to have got through Scrufts with our dignity more or less intact.
