Dog show stars no different than other pro athletes

	Like any professional athlete, show dogs have to juggle the demands of performance with an obligation to deal with the press. AP

Watching the Westminster Kennel Club dog show, I couldn't help but notice that announcers Lester Holt and David Frei referred to the show dogs as athletes. I have to agree, and not just because pro athletes such as David Eckstein and Nate Robinson are eligible to compete in the Toy group category.

Unlike human athletes, nobody even notices that these guys scratch themselves on live TV and relieve themselves in public. But like any other athletes, the dogs go through extensive training and need to be muscular and coordinated. They even have celebrity fans -- Martha Stewart was seen sitting courtside -- and to be successful they need to have good handlers. (Perhaps Terrell Owens should take note.) Sometimes, though, I wish that the canine athletes didn't act so much like their human counterparts.

For starters, Rocky Top's Sundance Kid was predictably a no-show at the event. After winning Best in Show last year, he's been holding out, refusing to compete until he receives a lucrative contract extension. "Rit's about respect," he told reporters during a Media Day interview earlier this week.

Then there's talented young rottweiler Avatar Luck of the Draw, who made news for his recent arrest on DUI charges. Police say they pulled over Avatar when they saw him driving erratically and sticking his head out the window. After allegedly becoming belligerent and assaulting an officer, he was promptly muzzled and detained at the local pound before posting bail. As a result Avatar's image has taken a real hit, and he is expected to lose his endorsement deal with sneaker manufacturer ReeBark.

Of course, the dark cloud hanging over this year's competition is the rumors and accusations of steroid use. None of the competitors have tested positive, but photographic evidence highlights the difference between St. Bernard Subiras Riley now and during his rookie year, when he was so much smaller that he was entered in the Toy group as a King Charles Spaniel. Perhaps it should come as no surprise that Riley lives in Tustin, Calif., a mere six-hour drive from BALCO's former offices. Trainer Greg Anderson had no comment.

Pundits say it's the intense competition in the kennel club circuit that leads the athletes to turn to performance-enhancing drugs. "It's a dog-eat-dog world," said one high-ranking border collie, a breed known for its shiny coat and terrible puns.

More controversy arose when Shih Tzu Symarun's Stevie Wonderful was shut out in the Toy competition. "It's because I'm black, isn't it?" Wonderful barked at reporters in the locker room. Commissioner Peter Van Brunt tried his best to deflect the accusations of breedism. "While it is certainly rare for a black athlete to play Stevie's position, he is not the first and will not be the last. We look forward to the day when competitors are judged not on their color but on their athleticism, competitiveness, and the strength of their hind legs."

Certainly there are some model citizens in the league. Dalmation Merry Go Round Mach Ten, for example, is known for his charity work as a volunteer firefighter. But for every one of him there's a player such as bulldog Cherokee Legend Rock, who failed to place in the top five after showing up out of shape and famously partying late into the night with celebrities like Spuds MacKenzie. Rock is rumored to be dating former child star Blue of the hit show Blue's Clues, although the two maintain that are just good friends.