The heroes bark among us: Saturday at the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show 2024

When most people think of the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show, they think of prancing, pristine pups, waltzing in a line until one is crowned grand champion, given a lifetime supply of Purina and bestowed a year's duty of awkwardly paw-forward ribbon cuttings at local car dealerships.

They also likely think of "Best in Show," an impossible-to-improve-upon piece of comedic dog show commentary.

While Cookie Googleman was nowhere to be found on Saturday in Flushing, Queens, Day 1 of the 2024 Westminster show was a paradise for the forgotten fringes, the dogs (and their human companions) that fill out the world of the competition. While Best in Show will not be crowned until Tuesday night, there was an almost overwhelming amount of supplementary dog-related content to enjoy at Saturday's showcase, and this intrepid reporter tried to soak in as much of it as possible from the splash zone (yes, there were water dogs, and yes, some of them were very small, and yes, one of them was afraid of water).

FanSided takes on the 2024 Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show Saturday festivities

The USTA National Tennis Center, three-and-a-half months away from hosting the US Open tennis tournament, was instead decked out in purple bunting this weekend, with precious few hints of what was to come (one pro store located near the front sold rackets and 2024 Open shirts, but the employees seemed stunned when I opened the door, ducking into the darkness like bats).

Instead of tennis' brightest stars, Arthur Ashe Stadium was the playground for the agility competition. Technically, the course represented work, not play, but several dogs were distracted and happy to run around regardless; one even spotted a cameraman and paused for several seconds, presumably asking him which filter he was planning to use.

At the end of each sprint around the obstacle-packed course, the crowd gave the dog finisher a standing ovation, and each time, I wondered whether the dog would prefer silence and a pat on the tummy rather than an overwhelming noise wall. The pre-applause muted crowd pause was the most glorious part, allowing close-by fans to hear everything trainers were saying to keep their dogs on task. Crowed one border collie's trainer audibly, "Jump...tunnel...wow, you're a superstar!" It was the first time, but not the last, that my full body sighed with joy.

Outside the main arena, events like "Dock Diving," "Obedience," and "Breed Showcase" were staged, along with a second agility course (featuring trainers pretending to walk invisible dogs, presumably to get used to the course, but I did have questions that remain unanswered). Courts 2 and 3, used normally for practice between Open matches, were instead roamed by 45 breeds, each ready and willing to meet their adoring fans -- except a pack of sleeping Lhasa Apsos, who remained unmoved as we passed. As their owner reminded us, Lhasa Apsos possess superior hearing, and used to guard holy temples in Tibet; somehow, that made me feel worse as they purposely ignored my high-pitched "Heys".

These two tents helped melt any preconceived notions of perfection. Casual Westminster observers likely find the idea of the event haughty, assuming every dog present is precious and cannot be pet, guarded by a virtual wall and germ-killing spritzes. At the Meet the Breeds showcase, the dogs (and their owners) wanted to advertise their puppies' special charms and skills. Dogs, from enormous hairball Chow Chows to wise-beyond-their-years Dandie Dinmont Terriers, were splayed out for the petting. Their handlers sold their dogs' unique skills well -- and also reminded fellow dog owners of how down-to-earth their precious pups could be. As one Biewer Terrier's owner told us, "I call Summer our painter when she goes to the bathroom. She starts here, goes over here..." Who among us can't relate?

Perhaps most surprising was that the outdoor courtyard was full of crates, sleepy doggies, and roaming owners. Most were wearing ribbons or harnesses that marked them as "special," but there was no wall between the talent and their adoring public. Behind the scenes, dogs sniffed and relieved themselves in grass patches; there was no walled-off Pee Cube, followed by a hyper-efficient Air Hose. These dogs were just ... dogs. They wanted to see you. They wanted to smell you. They wanted to say hi. You'd never see Roger Federer roaming the courtyard, out in the open. You wouldn't see his handlers, either. Or his crate.

Upon entry, we were assured that we couldn't afford to miss Dock Diving, and those assurances were 100% correct. A line of patient dogs of all sizes extended beyond the raised pool to the ground. Giant dogs created massive splashes after impressive flights. Small breeds, like Cavalier King Charles Spaniels, didn't reach the water through any method that was particularly jaw-dropping, but seemingly just wanted to get wet by any means necessary. One skittish Boston Terrier, after being prompted repeatedly by the familiar wave of a pole, edged to the lip of the platform, then fell in twice; once, he didn't even make the leap, preferring instead to linger on the wet pathway and soak in the unironic adoration.

Those expecting perfection, deductions and doggie demerits would be satisfied by the agility course, and the rigorous judging on display Monday and Tuesday evenings. Those who had preconceived notions of preciousness, though, would have had their expectations shattered Saturday by the eight-hour showcase of dogs from all across the country simply enjoying the sun, ready to greet you.

As you exited the grounds, the banners that flew above your head, which would depict tennis icons in three month's time, instead featured past winners of Tuesday's finals, highlighted by unforgettable names like Wasabi (2021) and Banana Joe (2013). But the real victors were the regular dogs, those who got to wag their tails, snooze their heads, and meet their adoring fans at the only place on earth where it was unclear whether "Back-to-Back Huskies National Champion" shirts referred to UConn or a pair of dynastic Siberians. It's the only spot where the same bag full of tennis balls, perfect for autograph hounds in August, was meant for regular hounds in May.

The best part? Nobody missed out. Except the owners with invisible dogs on the agility course. Hopefully, somebody reminded them that the real dogs were right outside before it was too late.