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Fairly BelatedAugust 30, 2010 I never did get around to reporting on my day at the fair. My fair was entirely about bread and dogs. Strange but true, a fair [sic] amount of my writing time this past week was devoted to writing (1) a letter to the editor about this year's requirement that recipes be submitted with baked goods, and (2) comments on the American Kennel Club's proposed changes in the regulations for Rally, which is what Travvy and I compete in. My day at the fair was Sunday, dog day. Along with the rest of the Rally group, I helped Karen Ogden set up her space: a demo area with agility equipment and (later) an abridged Rally course, and a smaller space where we could hang out with the dogs when nothing was going on. Once again, the racing potbellied pigs were headquartered nearby. Travvy was even more fascinated by them than last year. At least five minutes before they came out of their trailer he'd start staring in that direction and straining against his collar. All in all, though, he was considerably more relaxed than last year. I was more relaxed. This time last year, our first Rally trials were still in the future. Now we've both got more experience, Trav in highly distracting environments and me in handling a dog who is easily distracted. Once again we won the Alaskan malamute class, being the only team in it. The kid who was supposed to bring out the ribbons brought out his hamburger instead. Travvy didn't eat it -- or the cotton candy and ice cream cones that passed at nose level at other points during the day. Good Travvy. The judge was a Siberian husky person and she liked Travvy. I said I thought Trav might be carrying a little too much weight, after a hot summer of little serious exercise. She didn't think so. Trav was very happy about that and probably wished he hadn't been so polite about the kid's hamburger. Last year Trav snarled when a judge's assistant swooped out of nowhere and without a by-your-leave tried to examine his teeth. Immediately after the fair we did some teeth-exam practice, and I've made a point of frequently touching and rubbing Travvy all over, especially the areas where he doesn't especially like to be touched, like under his tail. That made a difference. He "stood for exam" and didn't react at all when the judge felt along his back and touched his sides. Progress is good. When things were quiet and Travvy was settled in his soft crate with an old marrow bone slathered with peanut butter, I left him under the watchful eye of my buddies and went into the hall to see how my bread had done. I'm used to finding my breads in the winners' case, so it was very weird to find it nowhere, not in the winners' case and not in the also-ran cupboards. Finally, on my second attempt, I found it to the top shelf of one of the cupboards. It looked great, but it didn't win anything. I was amazed. First time in 25 years that I didn't get a ribbon for yeast bread. My hunch is that they had new judges this year -- maybe last year too, because I didn't enter last year. I also wonder if the plan to publish a cookbook for the fair's 150th anniversary next year had something to do with it. Whoever came up with the muddleheaded plan to require the submission of recipes might have wanted to control who got into the cookbook. Eleanor Neubert, the longtime fair manager, called me in response to my letter -- which I sent to the M.V. Agricultural Society as well as to the newspapers. She didn't realize that recipes were required until she read the premium book while we were talking on the phone. I'm pretty sure she didn't think it was a good idea. This is the kind of thing you can't find out about by asking questions. You have to just shut up and keep your ears open. Maybe a year or two or three down the road you'll find out what went down.
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