Does it get any bigger than this? We’re talking 2,633 dogs, 48 states, five foreign countries, the author of ‘The Bone Collector’ and an awkward close-up of Glenn Close. It’s time for the super bowl of dog shows: the 131st Westminster Kennel Club at Madison Square Garden. If the phrase “Live on the USA Network” doesn’t give you goose bumps, you need to check your pulse.

'American Idol' finally moved to Hollywood after weeks of nut jobs, freaks and old guys who are just short of buying a Highlander to get ‘The Vortex’ back together. But I wouldn’t know. Since we could be dog owners by the end of the weekend, the misses and I are doing some window shopping in Westminster.

I never owned a dog because my mom had a hot dog named Andrew who drug his butt on the floor after he went potty. This, apparently, scarred her for life because I heard this story more than once. Every Christmas I asked for a white dog but instead, I was treated to yet another version of the Andrew story.

Now as adult, I have asthma and I’m allergic to pet dander. Naturally, the misses and I are counting the days to the birth of a litter of Boxers this weekend. My point is that I would love to judge these people for taking themselves way too seriously but in a way, I get it. I obviously love dogs, just not to the degree of their passionate handlers.

Janet Cupolo, a Hungarian sheep dog owner says grooming the dog is quite a process. “It takes about 12 hours to dry it. It takes about an hour and a half to wash it. And he dries in a crate with 2 big dog driers and a bunch of fans to keep the air moving and circulating around him. It’s like drying a wool sweater, only it’s a massive wool sweater.”

Monday night, the Boxer got beat by the Akita in the working group. Tuesday night, just prior to game time with a stomach full of butterflies, I discover that Vegas has placed breed odds. Immediately, I scour my gambling sites (which are just for “funzies”) and Westminster is nowhere to be found. I guess the odds were also just for funzies. “No money will change hands and it’s purely for entertainment” says John Avello, director of sports book operations at the Wynn Las Vegas. I can literally hear the sarcasm in his voice while reading that.

Despite having no action in play, I cheer up immediately during the initial lap when a klutz walking a pointer takes a header and has to limp through the rest of the lap. Talk about an entrance, a year's worth of work and 12 hours worth of blow drying down the drain…priceless. The even better news is there’s only two hours and fifty nine minutes to go.

Paging through a slide show for 2006, I meet the winner of the 2006 World's Ugliest Dog, Archie. Don’t you wish all competitions had an award for ugliest competitor? “The St. Louis Cardinals lose another World Series but congratulations to Willie McGhee who won his third straight ugliest player award.” The ’86 Celtics could have split the honor six ways.

Commentary from the misses causes my head to split in six ways. “Why are these handlers so stupid? Did you see that idiot almost trip over that box?” In her defense, these people have one job come game time: to run in a 60 foot circle. We’re 17 minutes in and there have already been two near-disasters, one requiring Icy Hot.

I missed some of the proceedings because the misses and I were arguing about what we’re going to name our dog to be. I’m pushing for Molson or Corona. Her key point, “Those are boy’s names!” She wants Madison (Maddie). You know what reaffirms our decision to drop 750 bucks on a pure-bred boxer: watching that Pedigree commercial of homeless dogs that need rescuing 16 times in three hours. Yup, that makes the decision much easier.

An hour in, Lester Holt gives the viewers at home a thrill, “We’ve got some celebrities in the crowd.” They begin what I thought was a montage of all the famous faces like at a prize fight. First, we’ve got Glenn Close. (Pause.) (Longer Pause.) Glenn is clearly uncomfortable. Lester is clearly uncomfortable. I’m giddy. I can see a production assistant screaming, “Bill Cosby screwed us, just stay on Glenn.”

That’s followed by the tragic tale of the escape of last year’s victor, Vivi. They interview her handlers who are saying things like “I don’t know what happened, the crate fell open. That frightened her and she ran off.” In order to qualify as a dog handler, I think you need to suffer from some form of muscular atrophy. Are these not the clumsiness bunch of people you’ve ever seen? How hard is it to run in a circle with out developing a severe limp and get the winner home without killing him?

In the end, the judge approaches the final seven with Best in Show ribbon in hand. Lester notes, “Some dog’s life is about to change.” The tension is palpable. From the judge, “I wish I had seven ribbons, but I got one ribbon. Tonight, that ribbon goes to the Springer Spaniel.”

James seems excited that people are pointing at him. Lester says that he “appreciates the moment” and calls him a “crowd-pleaser”. The judge affirms his decision saying, “He had great confirmation. He had that look in his eyes that said this is my night. Don’t screw it up.”

We’re still talking about dogs, right? All-in-all, it was entertaining. It was like the Titanic. Good movie, but it would have been better if you could find a way to kill an hour. I also felt like James was the right choice. He just seemed to want it more than the others. He was clicking on all cylinders and most importantly, his handler navigated the sixty foot circle without incident. That gave him a HUGE advantage over the others.