Chapter 10 chapter Ten

The town ladies in skirts and flats stared at her with the kind of critical eyes they usually only show when they go to the butcher's stall to buy meat. Mena Village Dog Show (1) The Menor Village Sports Ground is a flat field among the vineyards, where the town's football team usually plays games.At that time, there will be about a dozen cars parked under the pine tree, and the stadium is full of fans, watching the game and having a picnic.One day a year, usually the second Sunday in June, the playground is used for another purpose.On the same day, red and yellow flags were hung on the boulevard.Overgrown swales were also cleared for additional parking.High fences woven with bamboo strips are densely erected on the side of the road to prevent the eyes of passing pedestrians from eating free meals.Because, after all, it was the big event in the town, an event that combined the Clough Dog Show and the Ascot Horse Racing - the Menor Village Dog Show.

Events seem to start earlier this year and noisier than in the past.It was just after seven o'clock when we opened the door and drew the shutters to enjoy our only quiet Sunday morning of the week.At this time, the neighbor's tractor is resting at home, the birds are singing, the sun is shining, and the valley is quiet and peaceful.At this moment, half a mile away on the other side of the mountain, the host began to test his microphone, and the sharp electronic sound suddenly resounded through the valley, probably waking up half of the Luberon people. "Hello! Hello! 1, 2, 3, good morning, Mena Village!" The host stopped, cleared his throat with a few coughs, and it sounded like an avalanche. "Okay, the machine is fine." He turned the volume down a notch and tuned to Radio Monte Carlo.So much for a restful morning!

We decided to wait until the afternoon to see this dog show.By then, the opening show would have been over, bad breeds or poorly behaved dogs had been eliminated, lunch was over, and the best dog nose contest in the show was about to begin. As soon as the bell rang at noon, the loudspeaker suddenly fell silent, and the barking of dogs that had been one after another suddenly turned into occasional low barks, which sounded like excess energy or boredom, like a sad serenade.Other than that, there was no other sound in the valley, and the dogs and everything else took second place for the next two hours, filling your belly was the most important thing!

"Is everyone finished eating?" the loudspeaker yelled again, and a muffled hiccup came from the microphone. "Okay, the activity continues!" So, we set off and walked along the path to the sports field. A shady space in the parking lot has long been occupied by a group of sharp-sighted business elites.What do they sell?Dogs of special breeds, mutts, dogs with special specialties, including dogs for hunting wild boar, dogs for hunting rabbits, dogs for catching quail and woodcock.These dogs are chained together under the tree, and they are not honest when they are asleep.It's like putting a living necklace on the tree.The owners all looked like gypsies--tall, dark, with gold teeth gleaming under bushy black mustaches.

One of them noticed that his wife was interested in a black and brown wrinkled dog that was lazily scratching its ear with its large hind paw. "He's beautiful, isn't he?" said the dog's owner, his gold teeth gleaming at us.He knelt down and grabbed a handful of loose hide around the dog's neck. "It's like being wrapped in a bag when it's born, and you can take it home." The dog opened his eyes, as if accepting his fate of being born wearing a leather coat that was several sizes too big, scratching his paws It stopped halfway through.The wife shook her head, "We already have three dogs!" The man shrugged, let go of the dog's skin, "What's the difference between three and four?"

Walking along the runway of the sports field, the goods of the vendors in the field are getting more and more interesting.On a cage made of plywood and wire, there is a note that reads "Fox Terrier, Rabbit and Truffle Hunting, True Champion".This champion dog is short and fat, black and white, and is lying on the ground and dozing, with four stubby legs stretched upward.We're barely slowing down, but that's more than enough for the savvy dog ​​dealer. "He's not bad looking! Isn't he?" He shook the dog awake and lifted it from its cage. "Look!" He put the dog on the ground and took a piece of sausage from a tin plate next to the empty wine bottle on the hood of the van.

"This dog is very special!" he said. "When he eats, there is nothing to distract him, and his whole body will become rigid. If you press the back of his head, his hind feet will come up. ’” He put the sausage down, covered it with a leaf, let the dog find it, and put his foot on the back of the dog’s head.The dog growled and bit his ankle.Let's move on. The sports field gradually woke up from lunch, and there were small folding tables scattered under the trees, with some food and empty glasses still left on them.A spaniel successfully hopped onto a table, cleaned up food crumbs, and fell asleep with its chin resting on a plate.As the visiting guests were full, with bulging bellies, and the hot weather, their movements were obviously slowed down. They were picking their teeth while browsing the shotguns displayed by local arms dealers.

On a long table, thirty or forty guns were neatly lined up, including the latest black matte shotgun, which attracted many eyes.But some of the exhibits left us Monk Zhang Er scratching our heads.Which hunter needs the "Bronze Ring" and "Iron Meteor" which according to the card are "weapons used by Japanese ninjas"?The display was a far cry from the rubber bones and talking toys sold at UK dog shows. As the saying goes, like a dog, like a dog.After getting along for a long time, the dog owner and the dog will gradually become somewhat similar. Here, you can find many real examples.Elsewhere in the world, the theory may refer to physical traits—the hostess and her basset hound have a similar jaw; There is always a fast running little dog behind the horse rider.But France is France, and they always deliberately borrow fashion means to perfectly match people and dogs, so as to highlight the overall effect.

In the Elegant Dog Pose competition, two contestants stood out. Humans and dogs complement each other perfectly. Obviously, they are also willing to accept the attention of the bumpkins in the audience.For the women’s group, a blonde woman wearing a white shirt, white shorts, white cowboy boots, and a white miniature poodle on a white leash walked proudly to the bar, sipping orange juice leisurely with her orchid fingers raised.The town ladies in skirts and flats stared at her with the kind of critical eyes they usually only show when they go to the butcher's stall to buy meat. The men's group was dominated by a short, fat man and his half-human Great Dane.The dog was clean, with a shiny black back.The owner was wearing a tight black T-shirt, black skinny jeans and a pair of black cowboy boots.The dog wears a heavy black collar, and around his owner's neck is a cable-like necklace with a medal that hits his chest with every step; and a similar bracelet on his hand.Perhaps it was an oversight, his dog wasn't wearing a bracelet, but the two of them looked imposing when they stood high on the stage.The master yanked the collar roughly and yelled as if violence was necessary to subdue the behemoth beside him.The dog showed the docile nature of a Great Dane, and didn't understand that it should pretend to be fierce and unruly. Instead, it was polite and looked at the puppies coming and going from its crotch with interest.

We're estimating how long the Great Dane's good temper will last, and if the puppies swarm on his hind legs like flies, will he eat one of them to make an example.At this time, Mr. Matthew, who was holding a lottery ticket, made a surprise attack.For 10 francs, we have the chance to win sports equipment donated by local businessmen and a chance to eat a mountain bike, a microwave oven, a shotgun or Maxim's sausages.I was relieved that the puppy wasn't one of the prizes.Mr Mussel squinted and said, "You'll never know what a sausage is made of." Seeing the horror on his wife's face, he patted her, "Of course not, I'm just kidding!"

In fact, there were enough puppies on the stand to make a mountain of sausages.They lay or wriggled in groups, under almost every tree, on blankets, in cardboard boxes, in homemade dog houses and on old sweaters.We are all tested as we move from pile to pile of fluffy dogs with dozens of legs stretched out.Wife is very emotional about anything with four legs and a wet nose.The sales tactics of the dog dealers are particularly shameless. As long as they see a hint of interest in her, they will immediately grab a puppy from the dog pile and stuff it into her arms. The dog quickly falls asleep in her arms. "Look, how cute!" At that moment, I could already see that her heart softened again! Fortunately, at this time, the commentator who introduced the scene of the game came from the loudspeaker and rescued us.The specialist was dressed in safari gear—kutch hat, shirt, and trousers—and had a deep, slightly husky voice.He doesn't seem used to speaking through a microphone, and being a native of Provence, he can't keep his hands still when he speaks.So, from time to time, when he pointed to different places on the playing field with the microphone, the sound became choppy. The contestants lined up in the distance, with more than half a dozen guide dogs and two tan dogs of unknown breed.Small bushes were randomly placed on the playing field, and the spoils of the game - a live quail held aloft for inspection - would be hidden inside. Mena Village Dog Show (2) The commentator's technique with the microphone has improved a lot, and we can finally hear his commentary.The quail will be tied up in different bushes. The participating dogs will find it, but they cannot kill it. They can only show the place where the quail is hiding. Whoever spends the shortest time will win. After the quail had been hidden, the first contestant was released, sniffed and walked away in the first two bushes, and finally straightened up and stopped a few yards from the third bush. down. "Ha! This dog is amazing!" the narrator suddenly said, and the dog was distracted by his noise, looked up, and soon moved on.It walked very slowly, put one foot on the ground very carefully, and then lifted the other, with its neck and head stretched towards the bushes. The narrator praised it for its concentration and graceful movements, but the dog didn't care about it at this time. disturbed. "Brilliant!" said the narrator, and started clapping, forgetting that he was still holding a microphone.The owner brought back his dog, and one person and one dog trotted back to the starting point with triumphant strides.Timekeeper girls in high heels and sophisticated black and white suits mark the race results on the scoreboard.The person in charge of hiding the quail rushed out and hid the quail in another bush, and the second contestant entered. The dog immediately rushed to the edge of the bush where the quail had just been taken, and stopped. "That's right, the smell there is still very strong, wait a little longer!" said the narrator. They waited, and so did the dog, and then he got bored, maybe annoyed at being sent out for such a foolish thing, and pissed on the bushes, then ran back to his master. The person in charge of hiding the quail hid the poor quail again. This quail obviously had a particularly strong smell. Start, tentatively reach out the paw, then give up.An old gentleman standing next to us explained to us that the quail were moved from one bush to the next, leaving a smell along the way, and how do you expect the dogs to find the birds?They are not clairvoyance.The old man shook his head, and put his tongue against his teeth and made a disapproving click. The last player, one of the brown dogs, became so excited as his opponents were losing the battle one by one, and kept tugging impatiently at the rope.When it came his turn, he apparently misunderstood his role in the game, completely forgetting about the quail and bushes, and ran full speed around the playing field like a cannonball, and then rushed into the vineyard, where his master Follow closely behind.The narrator yells, "Oh! A locomotive, that sucks!" The sun is gradually sinking, and the shadows are getting longer and longer. Mr. Duffer, chairman of the Philosopher's Hunters Club, presented the winners with prizes, and sat down to a hearty paella with his companions.After dark, we could vaguely hear laughter and clinking glasses in the distance, and somewhere in the vineyard, someone was barking loudly for his brown dog.