The man at the gym whose name I can't remember owns two dogs - some sort of Japanese warrior breed with reddish fur - and he shows them. (I don't know if that's the correct verb. I mean, he takes them to dog shows and they parade around and might win a prize.)

One dog has low to no potential. Billy. He was purchased as a companion for the dog with high potential, Katie. They're siblings but poor Billy wasn't blessed with the same proud gait as Katie so is doomed to life as a pet in a kennel in this man's backyard.

Katie, from the sounds of it, is a proud creature. She attends the prime dog training sessions. I bet she gets the best morsels of pig's ear snacks. She is bathed periodically and blow-dried. And she has been escorted to various dog shows by the man's niece, there to be adorned with various rosettes depending on the quantity of other creatures in her category.

This week, she was taken to Crufts. The man had high hopes. Having been worried her coat would do something or other bad in the run up to Crufts (fall out??), it instead considerately remained intact in prime puppy fluffy condition which optimised her chances reportedly in the 18 to 24 month old category. The teenagers, in effect.

She was driven down on Wednesday. Stayed at the breeder's overnight. And yesterday was show day.

I did fleetingly think about watching the Crufts coverage on TV last night, not that I would've known this creature or the niece by sight, just to see.

But instead,  I fled to the gym this morning to find out the verdict.

Third out of three.

And with the cruelty inherent in genes, she lost out to her big sister.