Westminster Shwestminster

I don’t mean to sound bitchy, but seriously, what does Rerun of Roirdan have that I don’t have?  That’s the three-year-old who won best in breed for 13-inch beagles this morning at Westminster.  Oh yeah, the “sire” is Ch Lanbur Carson City, and the “dam” is Encore Ginny Lind.  Well, excuse me, but my lineage ain’t exactly chopped liver, either.  My pop was Ch Saranan’s Gentle Ben, and my mom was Ch Chrisette’s the Crumb Snatcher — but you don’t hear me going around name-dropping, do you?  Sure, I could have had that life.  Let’s face it:  I made a choice.  Instead of shlepping from Raleigh North Carolina to Vallejo California to New York City, prancing and preening and allowing myself to be poked and prodded by some nerdy nincompoop

in an ugly suit, I spend my time snoozing in the sun on the tan corduroy couch, getting up only for my daily destination walk with Beagle Man . . . and, of course, every time the refrigerator opens.  It’s a good life.  But once a year, when everyone’s all Westminster this and Westminster that, I can’t say I don’t get this tiny pang . . .   Because deep down, I’m a competitor.  And let’s face it:  I coulda been a contender.

The Roof Rack Report (#roofrackreport on Twitter, for those who follow me already on @BeagleManHank) appears on Mondays, usually.  It’s about politics, travel, food . . . important stuff like that.