The Yorkshire Vet: It’s show time for Yorkshire Terriers - Julian Norton
One of my clients at Thirsk insisted that I should watch her dog perform in a show. I had treated Robin for some mild dental problems some weeks ago, and he’d arrived at the practice dressed in his “papers”, wearing a nappy and also some sort of satin pyjamas. He cut quite a dash. Of course, he was a Yorkshire Terrier and these accoutrements were essential to keep his long hair luxuriant for the ring.
The “papers” consisted of white, bleach-free tissue, folded around the locks and somehow held in place, like a letter in an envelope. They resembled teabags, but the overall impression was of a lady wearing curlers overnight. The pyjama suit kept some of the teabags in place and was, I suppose, the equivalent of a hair net. The nappy was to stop him weeing on his tresses because Robin was still a youngster and hadn’t yet developed the habit of actually cocking his leg.
His outfit caused some degree of mirth amongst the staff in the practice, most of whom hadn’t seen this get-up before. For the older members though, it wasn’t a new look. I’d been involved with Yorkshire Terriers from the very start of my career, since the practice had a reputation as being good with this particular terrier breed. In years gone by, we’d treat Yorkies from all over the county and beyond, tending to their every need. It always amused me that this delicate and quaffed breed took the same title as our rugged county which seems to possess quite the opposite character. However, these feisty and tenacious little terriers were originally bred to catch rats under the machinery in the mills, which makes complete sense. The “father” of the breed was called Huddersfield Ben, which I’m sure was someone I once went to school with.
At the dog show on Sunday, all of the contestants must surely have been as far from Huddersfield Ben as we were from Huddersfield, but the community centre was a hive of activity, even early on. I saw Robin’s owner, who had set up camp on a table in the corner and went over to say hello. The atmosphere was relaxed- all the dogs looked extremely calm and one was so hypnotised by the grooming that his eyes closed as he drifted off into a meditative, trance-like state. As Robin finally received a spritz- “it has to be pure rain water, nothing else,” I was told- I grabbed a programme of the entrants and classes, which seemed to be called a “catalogue”. It reminded me of the huge booklets that would arrive from Argos or Kays, before the days of websites.
The names of each contestant were complicated and often ran to multiple parts (Megan-York-My-Time-To-Dance-For-Kelvin was the longest I could see) and Robin, evidently, had a much more fancy show name. The competition started and the chairperson came over to sit next to me, which was helpful, as she could give me guidance as to what was going on and what the judge was looking for. The first thing that surprised me was that each terrier arrived in the ring with its owner and a box, covered in a red cloth. Each box was about the size of a cat basket and the material varied from a simple crimson table cloth to luxurious velvet with gold tassels. The dog was placed ceremonially on top. As the show progressed, it became obvious that Yorkshire Terrier showing was more complicated than it looked, but I suppose I always knew that would be the case from the moment Robin walked into the room in his outfit! I wondered what Huddersfield Ben would have made of it.