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Published: Thursday, Jan. 27, 2011 / Updated: Tuesday, Jan. 03, 2012 12:22 PM

Reporter gets dogged by 11-year-old in Steele Creek’s Piedmont Kennel Club show ring

Pharmacies can’t sell you anything for the feeling in your stomach just before your first lap around a competitive dog show ring. Maybe it was the “bait” in my mouth.

But I went looking for a showdown, and Steele Creek’s Piedmont Kennel Club obliged. So there I stood Saturday, among 160 prissied pure breeds and their handlers, asking myself just how I got into this mess.

I’m quickly steered toward Maggie Blutreich, a lady whose grandmother once deemed dog handlers “a tad off” but who devoted a lifetime to the sport anyway. Whose resume in the field could choke a rattlesnake, and includes vice president with the kennel club.

She has someone in mind. Actually three someones – Rosener sisters Brittany, Megan and Olivia. All three show handlers with more colored ribbons between them than a dollar store in December.

Blutreich warns me early. They might run puppies on tiny leashes, but these Roseners aren’t “delicate little girls.”

“They’re tough,” Blutreich said. “They’ll skunk you.”

At age 11, Olivia’s been walking dogs to show podiums since she could see over top of them. She’s my competition, and I grill Olivia on what to expect. One of the stranger sights she’s seen showing dogs; “People take their old English sheepdogs and hang them around their necks.”

She goes on about canine raincoats and boots, custom headgear for dogs with long ears. We talk old judges, “in-season” bystanders and handlers riding motor scooters. I want to know what to avoid, what dalliances with indignity she’s seen happen to handlers in competition.

“Their slips fall down.”

Finally, something I don’t need to worry about. Until she mentions the men. “Their pants rip.”

I breathe hard. If dogs were bombs, there’d be federal laws keeping me from within miles of them. I get twitchy. We don’t suit each other. Think oil and water, grits and Yankees.

I’m so outside the dog loop, the Rosener family are lending me their own. And, I’m told, not just any pooch. I get Pierce, a 6-year-old show champion Brittany boasting – because, of course, dogs boast – “multiple best of breed wins and multiple sporting group placements.”

Olivia gets Juno, a 5-month-old Brittany entering her first show.

Say what you must about dog handlers, but never accuse them of being unfair.

I’m starting to like my chances. Until Beth Rosener reels off the bio sheet. Daughters Brittany, 16, and Megan, 13, both showed at Westminister in New York City. Brittany also went to Eukanuba, the American Kennel Club’s national championship.

And Olivia isn’t just riding their coattails. In 2007, she returned from a national Brittany show in Fort Smith, Ark., with an “award of merit” and an invitation to the Crufts International Dog Show in England. It’s the largest dog show in the world. She was 8.

These girls know dogs. They’re into genetic testing, pedigree research. They want to study zoology and animal behavior. They have to “catch themselves” from using show terms at school. Google “female dog,” because I’m not typing it.

But ignorance and unfamiliarity aren’t my only problems. Turns out dogs have personalities. And handling dogs means negotiating those personalities. Megan, she’s better with the rough and rowdy breeds. Olivia shows best with smaller, even inexperienced dogs.

My reporter radar pings. Here I was thinking they’d handicapped the contest in my favor. Now I find out Olivia’s specialty is puppies, and Pierce “loves to play.” Sneaky, those Roseners. Just plain sneaky.

“You’re handicapped,” Beth assures me.

Sisters say she’s smiling when Olivia speaks to me because I’m no competition. I’m concurring. Still, I have to ask if she gives me any shot at all to beat her.

“I would say 3 – or 2 or 1,” she guesses. “Somewhere from 1 to 5 percent, in that area.”

Maybe it’s the muddled math still boggling me when Dale McElrath interrupts.

“You can’t win if you don’t enter the ring,” he said.

McElrath judged several groups Saturday, and must’ve drawn the short straw to judge our little exhibition. I look up and see Olivia and Juno already competing. I’m standing outside the ropes. A stellar start to my showing career.

McElrath sends me on a roundabout, then a triangle run. Pierce actually puts his training to pretty good use, despite me. McElrath smiles. He seems like a good sport. I expected stern, like some embodiment of every standardized test administrator who ever lived. I’m starting to think these dog show folks aren’t so bad.

Then we finish running. McElrath notes I might’ve done better to keep the leash in one hand or the other. He doesn’t tell me to shut up, which he could’ve for all the blabber I’m letting loose. Olivia’s silent. I’m sensing show judges frown on chattiness.

He tells me to set Pierce.

I’m panicking to recall instructions Brittany, whose name long ago inspired the family breed choice, gave me only moments prior. And thanking my stars she wasn’t named Rottweiler. I remember the first letter but not the word – sit, stay, stack, steady. I try them all. Pierce nearly climbs my shoulder.

I reach for the bait – homemade frozen liver jerky. I’m supposed to put it in my mouth each time to show Pierce who’s dominant. Conveniently, I forget. Before McElrath even makes it from Olivia and Juno to us, Pierce engulfs all three pieces and I’m left spouting a line I never could’ve possibly imagined. “I need more frozen homemade liver jerky.”

McElrath quickly rendered his verdict.

“This is the best junior handling a dog,” he points to Olivia. Then to Pierce, “And this is the best dog handling a junior.”

That’s kennel-speak for me getting my tail handed to me. The message was cordial, but clear. I’m looking for the training table to ice down my ego from a fifth-grade girl owning the ring with me. Olivia’s fielding requests to show other people’s dogs. I ask if the outcome surprises her. She laughs.

She always laughs when there’s no competition left in front of her.

Competition: Olivia Rosener, 11, of Fort Mill, regional dog show handler

Contest: Showing Brittanys at the Piedmont Kennel Club Cabin Fever Match in Steele Creek, with competition judge Dale McElrath picking the winner from veteran show champ Pierce and rookie Juno.

Score: There aren’t number scores awarded for dog showing, just overall finishes. So I’ll make some up. On a 1 to 10 scale, I saw nothing from Olivia and Juno that clearly warranted deduction. So she gets a 10. I’m giving myself a 2. It felt like a 2. Final score: Rosener 10, Marks 2.

Overall Record:Pilot talent 10, Marks 2

Note: “On Your Marks” is a monthly column where I challenge someone from the greater Lake Wylie or Steele Creek area to a competition in their specialty. Maybe it’s online Scrabble, maybe ballet. If you hold a national ranking, multiple awards or if it otherwise requires an entire column to describe just how awesome you are at whatever it is you do, I’ll give it a try. I’m always looking for more. Shoot me a message at jmarks@lakewyliepilot.com with ideas, and if it’s your friends or family who are incredible at what they do, please rat them out. You know you’ve always wanted to.