Animal House

In a world where things change as rapidly as Britney Spears' gestational status, it's comforting to have a constant like Westminster.

The carpet is always green, the benching area always cramped, the jostling omnipresent.

In the press room, the insane phone calls come in with regularity, fielded by Eric, who speaks both Cantonese, Italian and Spanish (a benefit of growing up in Little Italy).

Every third call is for someone demanding to speak to David Frei, the show's tuxedoed emcee and the literal face of Westminster.

Ring, ring. Finally, a media person looking for someone other than Frei.

"Someone wants to interview Bill Cosby," says Erich Menendez, holding the phone to his chest.

Cosby, of course, owns the top-winning dog in the country, a Dandie Dinmont terrier named Harry. He (Cosby, not Harry) does  not make it a habit of hanging out in the press room -- and  according to show chairman Thomas H. Bradley 3rd,the famous comedian will not be at the Garden for Best in Show tomorrow night if Harry wins the Terrier group.

Ring, ring. "New Mexico -- Land of enchantment?"Eric says to a reporter calling to ask if any Albuquerque fanciers are entered in the show. "I know where that is --West Side, right?"

Out on the floor, things are equally as frenetic. Commandeering well-positioned seats that belong to others is a well-practiced sport, and just this morning I was shooed from mine by the handler belonging to real-estate heiress and poodle fancier Karen LeFrak, who was being assiduously filmed by PetStyle.com. (Karen, ever the lady, apologized profusely. Hey, it was the best seat I ever squatted in -- I deserved it.)

Amid all this, there was time for watching dogs. In the pug ring, "Tucker," the number-one pug and number-two toy dog last year, went down in flames, losing to a female named Cherry. Cheery's breeder, Machiko Nomura, pretty in pink and pearls, happening to be sitting in front of us, and all she could do was put her hands over her mouth as tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.

That's what Westminster's about -- the possibility.

Tucker, for his part, earned an Award of Merit -- dogdom's version of "runner-up" -- and left the ring sprawled on his owner's shoulders, languidly -- and perhaps appropriately -- belly up.