I dare to express my opinion: dogs seem to be in a bit of a decline. Or perhaps it’s just their owners. Take, for instance, those who parade a Great Dane through a grocery store or nestle in a cocktail lounge with a massive Saint Bernard at their side. Once, dog lovers embodied empathy and a grounded nature, but now, they evoke an image of white-collar privilege.

Yet, I held back my views during the Westminster Dog Show, fearing a throng of Belgian Malinois might come after me.

The 149th Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show holds the distinction of being the oldest continuous sporting event in the United States, second only to the Kentucky Derby. Upon entering the Javits Center, where the best-of-breed competitions took place on a recent Monday, I was immediately struck by the impressive array of security dogs present. Gone were the typical German Shepherds or carefree Golden Retrievers; instead, vigilant guards showcased elegantly groomed poodles or finely-toned hunting breeds.

The second aspect that caught my attention was the unmistakable odor. It was reminiscent of a barnyard, particularly in backstage areas. Don’t let the glamorous images of pampered pups on Getty or cute grooming tutorials on YouTube mislead you; even the champions occasionally need to relieve themselves. With 2,500 dogs representing all 50 states, the collective scent was quite overwhelming.

Many of the dog owners resembled overzealous sports parents, fiercely protective of their canine companions’ talents, glaring at rivals as if they were demanding precision from a teenager working at Dunkin’. I do commend their commitment to the event’s dress code, which could be described as sequined business casual.

“She’s here to do her job,” one owner solemnly stated about his bulldog, reminiscent of a police officer addressing the media about an ongoing investigation. “And so am I.”

“There are plenty of divas here, both two-legged and four-legged,” remarked Suzanne Terrant, who traveled from Johnstown, Ohio, to showcase Trauster, her Icelandic sheepdog. Although both of Trauster’s parents were show champions, he seemed more interested in lounging.

“He’d rather be splashing in a pond,” she chuckled. “He didn’t win anything this year, but we are still proud of him.”

Nearby, Cosette, a Havanese from Montreal, stood proudly with her chest thrust out, a display of confidence. “She loves being the star of the show,” her breeder, Myriam Archamdault, noted with a smile. After all, Cosette has French roots.

One dog who wasn’t French, a gray Airedale, sprawled out in the ring, flaunting its belly, clearly hoping for some affection while it awaited the judge’s evaluation. I found a kindred spirit in that playful pup.

Only the Best of Breed champions would make their way to Madison Square Garden later that night, where they were treated to an extravagant ceremony akin to a professional sports event. With corporate sponsors like Purina, a buzzing audience eager to voice their opinions, and an unexpected performance of the national anthem to open the night, the atmosphere was electric. This year marked the show’s return to Madison Square Garden after a five-year hiatus due to the pandemic.

The Hound Group kicked off the evening. As a writer, I began to feel a wave of anxiety; after all, there are only so many ways to describe show dogs. Slim, agile, charming, adorable—my vocabulary felt limited. Luckily, my seatmate, a seasoned dog enthusiast, offered ongoing commentary.

He remarked on the lithe Afghan hound, “That’s a rather intense breed.” For the Redbone Coonhound, he simply said, “Now that’s a stunning pooch.” And when it came to the Rhodesian Ridgeback, he quipped, “They’re as dim as they come.”

As for the Toy Group, which consisted of small, affectionate dogs, he exclaimed, “Not sure I understand the appeal of these little ones.”

Angela Pickett, an American Kennel Club judge and breeder of Papillons, oversaw the Toy Group judging. With her stylish ombre-brown hair, side bangs, floor-length lace gown, and piercing gaze, she resembled Westminster’s answer to Anna Wintour, the notorious editor of Vogue.

Pickett appeared to be the kind of person I’d gladly share margaritas with while digging into kennel club gossip. However, her judging seemed quite severe. I wouldn’t want to be a Miniature Pinscher in her presence. (Comet, a Shih Tzu, who claimed victory last year, successfully took home the trophy again.)

Sports are defined by their narratives: think of the Miracle on Ice or The Rumble in the Jungle. Westminster also has its own compelling story, highlighted by Neil the Bichon Frisé, who won the Non-Sporting Group that day. Neil’s owner, Lisa Bettis from Naperville, Illinois, had spent the previous day in the hospital due to a health scare. Yet, she ensured she attended the event with Neil. “He adores life and people,” Bettis shared with a Fox reporter after their win. Truly a good pup!

As the clock struck 10pm, whether it was Neil’s victory, the show’s grandeur, or simply the fatigue of watching dogs prance around for eight hours, I found myself reconsidering my earlier belief that dogs were in a slump. These remarkable canines were athletic performers who thrived on the audience’s adoration. They seemed to possess an uncanny ability to tolerate our quirks and idiosyncrasies. A night among these esteemed dogs can shift even the most skeptical perspective.