I went to the Westminster Dog Show a couple of weeks ago, which is one of those magical things you can only do in New York. Dogs take over the town - airplanes are full of dogs and hotels are packed with dogs and owners and trainers and fans. Dogs are allowed and welcomed. The Empire State Building even lights up with Westminster colors--purple and gold.

This is the fourth time I have gone and I am completely enthralled. Like a hockey fan brags about seeing Miracle on Ice in 1980, I can say I was there the night Uno the Beagle won Best in Show in 2008. It was madness. Uno possessed absolute charisma and dare I say it - animal magnetism. I could feel it up in the stands. The crowd was near hysteria. If Uno had not won Best in Show, those dog people would have started ripping up the seats and rushing the stage in a fit of fanaticism and disbelief. Uno is a rock star. He is the Mick Jagger of dogs. Uno had "it". In fact the next year, at the 2009 dog show, Uno was brought back out in the ring, kind of like last year's Miss America taking one more walk on the runway. The crowd went berserk again--Uno was in the house!

Uno got to ring the bell at NASDAQ; Uno got to ride in the Macy's Parade; Uno even threw out the first pitch at a couple of baseball games. (Apparently, it was more like Uno fetched the first ball) And as per Best in Show tradition, Uno went to Sardi's the next day to enjoy a plate of steak tartare.

This year a black Scottish Terrier named Sadie took the silver bowl. I did like her. But I liked the whippet too. The next day, Sadie went to the top of the Empire State Building and she got to meet Donald Trump and did all the morning talk shows. Pretty cool.

One of the best parts of Westminster is the benching area. Anyone with a ticket can go "backstage" to check out all the dogs and vendors. The dogs are hanging out waiting for their category. The owners and trainers are very amiable and I got to pet all kinds of dogs, a massive Irish Wolfhound, a sweet Schnauzer. Some dogs are sleeping in their kennels all tuckered out from their big day. The winners of Best of Breed or Best in Group have huge blossomy ribbons on their kennels.

But the main reason to go backstage is for the grooming. These dogs are "done." Blow dryers, hairspray, teasing, brushing, clipping. It is the most bizarro beauty parlor in the world. There are those wacked out Rasta dogs--the Pulis with their cordy dreadlocks. The Bob Marley's of the dog world. How does a groomer work with that chaos? All the dogs are so mellow. They are up on a table and they have all this stuff on them. Pins and rubber bands sectioning off their hair. Loud blow dyers, massive amounts of products being sprayed on them. But they stand there and let it happen. They are so well trained and of course, probably used to it. The dogs have better hair than me. Silkier. Shinier. Bouncier. So not fair.

And even though this event sounds like something oh so very British with the Westminster name and all...the whole competition was cooked up in a Manhattan bar in the 1870s. A bunch of wealthy sportsman would gather and talk about their successful hunts and brag about their dogs. So they decided to have a contest.

The judges are all plucked from Central Casting--total typecast. The women are dressed in their matronly beaded gowns with matching jackets; their hair all backcombed in an updo. A very "Mother of the Bride" fashion statement. The men in tuxes all look like professors of Anthropology at a small college upstate--bearded and grey and most likely fond of tweeds and elbow patches. But they know what they are doing. They can look at 16 Pomeranians and pick out the best one. To me, they all look alike. It is like comparing apples and apples out there. But the judges check them out, watch them run and somehow, the winner will emerge.

The competition gets more like apples versus oranges when they have to judge the group. For example, the Working group has 26 breeds. So the judge has to pick a winner and compare a Boxer to a Great Dane. It's not easy. And I can never figure out how they announce the winner. The judges just start pointing randomly and somehow everyone figures it out.

When the Best in Show is ready to roll, the lights in Madison Square Garden dim and the dogs come out with their trainers one by one and run around the ring as a spotlight guides their way. The crowd is going wild. You just can't help yourself. It is captivating. There really is some serious energy in the room. There are seven categories at the end--Sporting, Non-Sporting, Terrier, Hound, Working, Toy, and Herding. I'd say if you are a herding dog, you are already working, but that's just me. This time the judge has to compare apples and oranges and bananas and mangoes. These dogs could range from a Dachshund to a Dalmatian.

There are crowd favorites. People are screaming for these dogs. I screamed too. There is tension as the judge walks around and looks at the dogs. I can't believe I get all worked up, but I do.

It sounds goofy, but it's wonderful. Dogs are amazing. Who doesn't want to hang out with a dog? And living in New York, it is a bit more of an ordeal to have a dog. There are no yards to let them run and pee. So you have to walk them and pick up their "leavings." It is an added expense with vet bills and whatnot in a town that is already expensive. Going on vacation can be a hassle, trying to find a reliable dog sitter or paying for doggie day care. So those who do have dogs really love them.

I walked home after the show thinking about all the great dogs that have been in my life. My dogs Charlie and Maxwell that I grew up with. My sisters each have a dog; Rebel and Hawkeye. Dogs my friends have and have had--Cricket, Prudence, Sherry, Madison, Sophie, Molly, Bernie, Cooper, Bucky, Epri, Bubba Sue. I thought of my cherished dog Wolfgang who died in 2007. Dogs are the best. I got home and there was Loretta waiting for me. She is a rescue dog; I got her at the city shelter last year. She is a 3 year old Cairn Terrier and has all those crazy terrier habits. She is feisty and she barks and she is obsessed with her toys and wants to play and she has to be where ever I am at all times. But she is a good girl and she goes bonkers when I come home from work and her whole body shakes with excitement. She was all giddy when I came home from the dog show too. "Who's my girl?" I said. "Who's my best in show?" And I took her out for a walk around the block in the brisk New York night air.