My MM Entry By Fudge

Last year I entered Mango Minster and by some weird error I didn't win. I wanted to demand a recount, but Mom convinced me that the Supreme Court would rule against me, so I dropped it.

I think I should enter the 'Good Old Boys' division, but Mom says NO, that I definitely belong in the 'Bad Boy' group. I think this is another example of Mom being unfair. Let me explain.

Mom used to think she wanted me to be a show dog. OK, I was willing to give it a try. Then I saw what being a show dog meant. First I had to have lots of baths and haircuts. Then we went to this big place with lots of people and dogs all over the place. It looked like it might be fun, lots of other dogs to play with and some of them were pretty nice looking lady dogs.

We waited around for awhile, then it was our turn. We went into the ring with some other dogs and walked around in circles. Then some strange dude that I didn't even know came over and looked in my mouth, then he felt me up. Can you believe it? Then Mom and I were supposed to walk up and down so the weird dude could watch us. I decided to give him something to watch, so I hopped. Mom told me to stop, but there were some people there who laughed, so I knew they appreciated me and I hopped some more. I hopped all the way in both directions. The weird feely dude gave the ribbons to another dog that didn't hop as well as I did. That dog just dragged his butt back and forth and nobody even laughed. After trying a couple times, Mom decided that maybe I wouldn't make it as a show dog. Good thinking, Mom.

Next she decided I should be an obedience dog. We went to school and I learned really fast that great treats happened whenever I listened and did what Mom said. Mom said I was a star pupil. Of course I was. This was easy stuff like sit and down and stay and heel. That stuff is a cinch. Then Mom entered us in a Rally trial. Piece of cake!

The first day I did all the sit and down and stay and heel stuff and the judge gave Mom some ribbons and gave me a squeaky toy. Great! The second day we went back and did all the same stuff for a different judge. OK, but this is getting kind of boring. That judge gave Mom some ribbons and me another toy. Then we had to go back for the third day and do it all again. What!! How many times does a guy have to do this boring stuff, anyway?

The third day we started heeling and sitting and all that. Then Mom told me to down and stay. OK, I did it, but I looked up at the judge lady and she looked just as bored as I was. She's been watching all those other dogs do this stuff all morning. I figured she'd like a little entertainment, so I rolled over a couple times. Mom said "No, Fudge" so I jumped up and licked Mom's face, then I jumped as high as I could and I can jump really high, then I spun around in a circle a few times. Then I laid back down and finished doing the stuff Mom told me to do. I glanced over at the judge lady and she didn't look happy. She wasn't laughing and she just walked away. The judge lady didn't give us any ribbons or toys. I hope that judge lady got a sense of humor transplant because her's was damaged beyond repair.

I like toys, but not as much as some of my pack mates. I mostly like to just take them away from the others. Then if I have one and they don't I like to walk back and forth in front of them and stick the toy in their faces to show them that I have it and they don't. With Noah I go over and shove him a little and stick the toy right in his snooter. Noah's a wimp and I love to tease him. He get's all upset and runs to Mom and she tells me to stop, but as soon as she looks away I shove him again.

I have a couple of old blog posts that you can look at if you want to know me better. One is my concession speech from last year when I didn't win at MangoMinster. Mom told me to be gracious. I did my best.

Another post is about a complaint I had when Mom started training that wimpy Noah. She actually thinks he can be a Rally dog. Come on!

So now you know me a little and you can see what a great, fun loving guy I am. So vote for me, Fudge, for Bad Sport of the Year.