Gossie's Last Stand

The greatest show dog in history was a gasping mop of hair. In the hot, stuffy quarters under Madison Square Garden, the Pekingese named Chik T'Sun of Caversham was far off the form that had won a record 126 bests-in-show. Coming up in an hour was his last chance at the top prize that had always eluded him: best-in-show in the flossy Westminster Kennel Club competition. But he looked like a loser as he sprawled in his cage and licked desultorily at a piece of ice.

Then tiny (5 ft., 89 lbs.) Handler Clara Alford, 51, went to work on Chik T'Sun (she calls him Gossie for short). A pair of round-eyed Chihuahuas, led by a tweedy woman, minced past on the urine-spattered floor, each bearing on its back a tiny knapsack loaded with a pack of cigarettes, matches and sunglasses. But nothing distracted Handler Alford. Squinting through the smoke of her Winston, she turned the Peke over on his back and began to brush the long hair on his. belly with strokes that soon had him wheezing in relaxed delight.

No Baths. At a respectful distance hovered the champion's owners, Charles Venable, an Atlanta vending-machine distributor, and his blonde wife Christine. They bought the English-bred dog for a reported $8,500 three years ago and have scarcely seen him since; few owners who aspire to blue ribbons have the time or skill to handle their own dogs. Clara Alford, a half-Cherokee professional handler from Catoosa, Okla., put Gossie on the strict regimen of a Peke show dog, e.g., no romping with other dogs or children (he might damage an eye), no baths (his hair might mat). She stoked him on chopped steak laced with wheat germ, brushed his flowing reddish hair from two to nine hours a day. For eleven months a year, Gossie spent much of his time in a traveling case in the back of Clara's Dodge station wagon as she barnstormed from one city to another on the show-dog circuit. Nights, she pulled into a motel, set up a 6-ft. pen, and turned Gossie loose for his exercise, after carefully choosing a smooth stretch of lawn with no twigs or briars that might snag his coat.

One Fault. Before the finals, Clara sprayed Gossie's coat lightly with water ("It quiets the hair--there's so much electricity in it"), then carried him into the ring. With anxious, quizzical eyes, Gossie peered up at the judge feeling for the solid, strong body that has been a requirement of the breed since it was brought out of China in 1860 by the British. With Clara hustling alongside, Chik T'Sun glided across the floor with the approved controlled roll. After hesitating over a broad-chested bulldog and a frisky Pembroke Welsh corgi, the judge pointed his right hand at Gossie and declared him best-in-show.

With this final honor, Gossie retired from the show ring, was carried off to the Venables' home in Atlanta. There he will lead a life of casual ease, and devote himself to the task of improving his breed (stud fee $150). Business should be brisk, for Pekingese fanciers are willing to overlook the single fault of Westminster's champion. He snores.

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