Once, when he leaned too close to the star collie of his kennels,
the dog mistook him for a stranger and resented the intrusion by
snapping at him. He did not know his own pets, one from another.
And they did not know their owner, by sight or by scent.

At the small shows, there is an atmosphere wholly different. Few
of the big breeders bother to compete at such contests. The dogs
are for the most part pets, for which their owners feel a keen
personal affection, and which have been brought up as members of
their masters' households. Thus, if small shows seldom bring
forth a world-beating dog, they at least are full of clever and
humanized exhibits and of men and women to whom the success or
failure of their canine friends is a matter of intensest personal
moment. Wherefore the small show often gives the beholder
something he can find but rarely in a larger exhibition.

A few dogs genuinely enjoy shows--or are supposed to. To many
others a dogshow is a horror.

Which windy digression brings us back by prosy degrees to Bruce
and to the Hampton dogshow.

The collies were the first breed to be judged. And the puppy
class, as usual, was the first to be called to the ring.

There were but three collie pups, all males. One was a rangy tri-
color of eleven months, with a fair head and a bad coat. The
second was an exquisite six-months puppy, rich of coat,
prematurely perfect of head, and cowhocked. These two and Bruce
formed the puppy class which paraded before Symonds in the oblong