I felt good for the Beagle. Having been blessed with Oliver, here, for the last seven or eight months, I have come to love the Beagles' stubborn ways and intense hunger for both attention and food. I have come to respect the Beagles' world-class noses; I have come to love their melty butter-pat eyes. Their character is dynamic; they own the room.
Uno was a good choice: a perfect specimen and he had that it quality. The commentators referred to him as a "rock star" and, while that may be stretching it a bit, the dog definitely carried himself with some pizzaz. To attribute some human qualities to the bastard, he looked like he felt he was above all the superfluous pomp and circumstance. He knew he was the best dog: Yawn. Just gimme the trophy and be done widdit, okay?
However, if I'd been one of the judges, I would have made sure that this guy was in the final group. And i would have judged him Best In Show. The Neopolitan Mastiff. All wrinkles, jiggles and lope.