The rank and fashion of Clear Creek County was joined by dozens of hungry competitors from down the hill at Sunday’s fifth annual Westmuttster Dog Day Afternoon, Idaho Spring’s no-holds-barred answer to that other little dog show across the pond.

Spearheaded by Greg Markle and KYGT ‘The Goat” Radio, the popular event benefits Clear Creek County Animal Rescue League, a welcome yearly shot in the paw for a volunteer organization with about 35 animals under its care at any given time. Sunday’s affair at the football field in Idaho Springs netted about $2,000 for CCARL, a significant boost over last year’s take.

On the make for new homes, four hopeful residents of the Clear Creek Animal Shelter expertly worked the crowd. Peyton, a beautifully mottled pit-bullish puppy, wielded huge, soulful eyes with sweet efficiency while 4-year-old Opie, a cocker spaniel mix, used his friendly good nature to devastating effect. Mabel and Suzy, a spirited pair of black Labrador retriever pups, were not content with passive enticements and took to the field in search of new masters. The dogs had just four hours to win somebody’s heart.

Unlike its pretentious cousin, Westmuttster neither requires nor desires pedigrees of its participants and extends considerable competitive latitude to dogs and owners alike. Snoozer events such as ‘Best Groomed’ and ‘Posture’ have been replaced with nail-biting rousers like ‘Oldest Dog’ and ‘Most Disobedient,’ categories that better reflect the natural aptitudes of man’s best friend.

Master of Ceremony duties were divided between KYGT trollops Poochie and Smoochie, known better to intimates as Dede Waldron and Sally Shriner, and the bearded and mellow Rick Lewis in his Big Doggie Daddy persona. Between them, the trio deftly managed the chaos with a mixture of really bad dog puns and sound advice. “Pick up after your dogs,” Poochie admonished. She asked nicely, but everyone did it anyway.

The afternoon’s soundtrack was provided courtesy of Jimmy Lewis and the Doggy Dos, a suggestive alias for area trio Jimmy Lewis and the Blue River Rounders. Their soulful music helped ease the terror everyone surely felt at the sight of a lofty stilt-walker looming all over the field in the company of an eerie harlequin. The kids seemed to like them, but what do kids know? Equally disturbing was a six-foot Garfield that hung around the event staging area. Though no one actually mistook that horrible apparition for the nearby cat-shaped pinata, whoever wore that costume was taking an awful chance.

A brutal maze of shallow wading pools and six-inch fences, the obstacle course was the most technically demanding of the afternoon’s events. More than simply a test of endurance and dexterity, a bewildering string of six traffic cones tried each dog’s navigational skills and an intimidating two-bale-high stack of hay measured their courage. Festooned with savory wieners, a diabolically tempting fixture in the middle of the course tested contestant’s competitive spirit. The failure rate was high – okay, total – but then these weren’t pampered, coached and coddled circuit-dogs with hair appointments and personal trainers. They were noble yard mutts with squirrels to chase and holes to dig and within each furry breast beat the heart of a klutzy, easily-diverted, cowardly, true champion.

To lend the proceedings due gravity, all judges were drawn from the august ranks of Clear Creek County government and, with official-looking paper certificates at stake, organizers took pains to banish even the appearance of favoritism. On the table in front of each panel, a clearly-labeled bribe jar guaranteed every contestant an absolutely equal chance to bribe the snot out of the officials, a useful lesson for the younger set. How that money was pried from the clenched fists of the politicians and turned over to CCARL is not known. Insert your own acerbic observation here.

Competition for the coveted ‘Best Costume’ ribbon was demeaning and fierce. A brace of Pekinese in pink jumpsuits looked like an only-slightly-less-annoying version the Solid Gold Dancers, and one poor hound appeared to be sandwiched between half-loaves and garnished with mustard as if he were some kind of hand-held lunch entrée. Two contenders rose to the head of the pack.

Looking cool and confident behind mirrored sunglasses, 10-year-old Gus had brought his Dachshund, Lucky, for a third shot at the costume crown. “He was a doggie bag last year,” said the Idaho Springs resident, “and a caterpillar before that.” Neither manifestation had caught the judge’s imaginations so, this year, Lucky was dressed in a bright yellow rain slicker, sort of a Little Morton’s Salt Dog. It was bold, it was clever, but would it be enough?

“I’ve got the perfect costume this year,” declared Jenna, and 11-year-old from Dumont. Jenna recently discovered a treasure trove of plush toy accessories at a Lakewood mall and her miniature Schnauzer, Amelia, was wearing most of them. Deliberations were intense, corruption rampant. In the end, the judges were moved by Amelia’s flowered blue underwear and Jenna took the crown.

“Lucky doesn’t like wearing the costume,” Gus said, by way of explanation. Bruised but unbowed, he and Lucky set their caps for the prestigious “Worst Breath” contest, for which Lucky was well-prepared. “Today he’s had salami, jerky and cat’s business.” Cat’s business? “He gets into the cat’s litter box.” Oh. That could be hard to beat.

Buoyed by their success, Jenna and Amelia prepared for “Most Disobedient,” a difficult category, to judge by the unruly pack on the field. “She won’t do anything I tell her,” Jenna said, confidently. To demonstrate, she repeatedly – and fruitlessly – ordered Amelia to sit. It wasn’t until Jenna gave up that Amelia squatted down to water the grass. If they could reproduce that performance in front of the judges, they’d be a shoo-in.

Of course, Dog Day Afternoon isn’t just about competition and prizes, it’s also about nourishing the “whole dog.” Numerous vendors were on hand offering everything from nutritious dog snacks and dog diet plans to dog massages and dog Reike. Dog photographers and dog portrait artists were doing a brisk business among owners who have trouble remembering what their dogs look like.

DEO Speedwagon, a top-drawer flyball team from Denver, set up a demonstration of the sport at the west end of the field. For those not familiar with flyball, it’s essentially an exciting blend of steeple chase and relay race run by dogs using tennis balls as batons. It’s a concentrated, fast-paced entertainment and a good time for man and beast.

Somewhere between all the Frisbee catching and the dog-trick demonstrations, someone brought out Skota the Singing Dog. A malamute-y sort of pooch that would look at home in front of a sled, Skota played the silent Diva until howls of encouragement from the audience loosed her voice, at which point she gave a creditable performance. Any suggestion that her recital was perfunctory or lacked interpretive nuance should be considered jealous grumbling of lesser talents.

New this year, the “Best Smile” competition was perhaps the best-attended event of the day. It should be noted that, on a balmy afternoon under a cloudless sky, distinguishing between two kazillion grinning dogs is akin to naming the worst headache at a bagpipe festival. Everybody’s a winner.

Rather than encourage misbehavior directly on the field, judges in the “Most Disobedient” contest relied on scathing testimonials from owners about their pet’s routine noncompliance and mutinous insubordinations. Unable or unwilling to completely trash Amelia before the world, Jenna sacrificed the prize to a troublesome mutt who allegedly “…barks too much and won’t listen to grandma.” Well, winning isn’t everything.

During “Worst Breath” inspections, it was heartwarming to see the judges, determined to properly carry out their unpleasant duty, crouch on the ground and stick their noses into maw after drooling, reeking maw. As politicians, of course, they may be fairly accustomed to the stink of the cesspool, but it was inspiring all the same. Incredibly, Lucky was passed over in favor of Bon Jovi, a poodle from Parker, though what that poor dog could have eaten to out-stink “cat’s business” doesn’t bear contemplation. Insert your own Bon Jovi remark here.

Win, lose or draw, the fourth annual Westmuttster Dog Day Afternoon was a barking good time and a lot of animals who need help will get it thanks to the generosity of the event’s organizers, sponsors and guests. And what of the four shelter pups? By day’s end, Suzy was adopted out-right, Opie was matched with a foster family and a couple expressed strong interest in Peyton. Three out of four ain’t bad, they say, and every dog has his day.