BLACKFOOT, Idaho (AP) — Ah, the life of a superstar.
Tommie cruises the country — hitting as many as 70 cities a year — in the climate-controlled cabin of a spacious RV.
When he flies, he does so first class, and on one recent trip, an attendant cut up the first-class meal, filet mignon, into easily chewable bites for him. At home, he relaxes and exercises on 2 1/2 acres of California land. When he retires, he'll live out his years visiting children at hospitals.
"To be honest," said Michelle Steele, Tommie's handler, "he's got a better life than most humans."
At the Blackfoot Dog Show recently, handlers, owners and trainers paced from the competition ring (where they show their dogs) to their RVs (where they spoil their dogs). A winning handler gets a blue ribbon. A winning show dog enjoys a bath, a haircut, a nail clipping, a vacuuming (how else do you clean a Saint Bernard?), a gourmet meal and a lifetime's worth of belly rubs.
These dogs are the bourgeoisie of the canine world, and they expect to be treated as such.
"Spoiled rotten," Steele says with a laugh.
Not that Tommie, a boxer, doesn't deserve such treatment. After all, he has been the No. 1 working dog and No. 1 boxer in the country, and one year he won third place for best overall dog. He also boasts 49 career best-in-shows.
His owners — Michelle and her husband, Gary — are famed dog owners, too. Michelle started in the business when her father, who hobnobbed in Hollywood circles, acquired a boxer named Rebel from Gene Autry. A man once approached her in a parking lot and offered to buy the dog. She declined, but realizing Rebel's potential, she entered the world of show dogs.
Years later, she spotted Tommie, then just a puppy, at a show in Kentucky. She approached the handler and said, "Hi. My name is Michelle, and I'm taking your dog home."
At the time, Tommie was worth about $7,500. Today, Michelle calls him "priceless." "You couldn't even put a price tag on him," Michelle says. "Between the shows, the breeding, it's not possible."
Like most elite dogs, Tommie competes in the conformation category, which measures a dog against the standards of its breed. The dogs don't necessarily compete against each other.
Rather, the judge chooses the one that best captures the breed's ideal physical and temperamental attributes.
"Each judge has a sort of . . . blueprint for what the ideal dog would be," says Elliott Weiss, who has judged dog shows, including the Westminster Kennel Club Show, for 16 years. "Of course, it's actually unattain- able."
A few dogs, though, come pretty close. Weiss calls these "2-percenters."
"Those dogs fill the eye with such balance," Weiss said. "You see the whole instead of various pieces."
So, how does one raise a "2-percenter"? It's part genetics, part feeding, grooming and training. It all amounts to a pampered lifestyle for the dog.
Parry Talmadge, a handler and owner from San Francisco, feeds his Basenjis — who have their own room in his home — a "raw diet" consisting of parts of chicken, beef and lamb, as well as eggs. He occasionally feeds them dog food but assures, "It's nothing you'd find in the grocery store."
As for grooming, almost all dogs receive a bath within days of a show, and others are cleaned throughout the day, depending on their traits. Alfonso Escoberdo, a trainer from Phoenix, spent two hours in the early afternoon carefully removing excess hair from his Airedale. Because of their scruffy appearance, Airedale's require extensive fur grooming.
"It takes a long time," he says. "Airedales are a lot of work."To help keep her Norwich terrier's ears perky, Susan Lassila of Missoula, Mont., bandages them with masking tape. Other owners cut excess fur from their dogs' feet, trim nails and even vacuum under long hair.
Training? It happens daily for these dogs. Therese and Kevin Leimback allow their Basenjis the run of their 7 acres. Therese plays with all her dogs on a stand like the one used in judging, so the dogs are accustomed to it. When she walks into her puppies' room and asks, "Who wants to be a show dog?" they race toward the stand.
"It's fun for them," she says. "They know that if they do it they're going to get a treat and lots of attention." Her dogs stack — or strike the pose from which judges examine them — on command. She demonstrates with her black and white Basenjis, which won best in breed. The dog stacks at her request, then maintains the position until she drops a piece of chicken or cookie into his mouth.
"We believe in short, consistent training," Kevin said. "We do this 10-15 minutes a day, just keeping it very fun for the dogs."
For dogs like Tommie, whose genetics, diet, grooming and training all come together to produce a champion, very little about life is lacking in fun.
"These dogs," Michelle Steele said, "are pretty happy."