Showing posts with label fluppy breath. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fluppy breath. Show all posts

Monday, February 16, 2009

what happens in scottsdale

So, we head down to the Scottsdale All-Arabian show on Friday, and it's great, as usual. Good vendors, lovely fillies and colts:


Some deep quality in the under-saddle classes:


Adorable children in the Leadline classes:


Artery-clogging horse show food (....mmmmm....faLAfel........):

But we soon discovered that our primary raison d'etre at Scottsdale was to be the entourage for a certain celebrity. No, I'm not talking about Brit-Brit. It's someone MUCH more of the moment:
Dude. Seriously? Maiden and I couldn't walk more than ten paces without hearing that telltale "AAAAAAAAWWWWWWIsthataBoxer?Howoldisshe?She'sSOOOOOOOOCUUUUUUUUTE."

Show management was really on top of things this year, too. They apparently knew Belle would be coming down from the high country, because they provided her with her own, private facilities:


It's too bad I'm so prejudiced against pit bulls and that I'm totally impervious to puppy breath and warm puppy bellies. Because here's what faced me the next morning in my hotel room bed:



Hey, Belle? Just remember: What happens in Scottsdale stays in Scottsdale. We can keep this between us, right?


'Cause, you know. I got a rep to protect.