There’s some real bitchiness in the ‘Greatest American Dog’ competition

Doggone it, I've gone to the dogs during the dog days of summer, doggedly determined to delve into the world of dog-eat-dog entertainment. Drat.

Cat lover I may be, but there are dogs in my life, dogs I consider personal friends. Maude. Guinness and Gulliver. Cheyenne. Peanut.

As someone who loathes reality shows and refuses to watch "American Idol," somehow the television ads for "Greatest American Dog" caught my attention. The idea of 12 dogs competing for honors and demonstrating their talents piqued my interest.

After watching two episodes of the show, which airs at 8 p.m. Thursdays on CBS, I'm hooked. (My cat slept through both shows, but since Mr. Darcy's talent is for eating bugs and digging Q-tips out of the wastebasket before running to hide them, his feline views on canine talent are irrelevant.)

"Greatest American Dog" started off strong with 9.5 million people watching the first show, but only 7 million watching the second. The New York Post gave it three out of four stars, the Hollywood Reporter sneered at the dopey music and said it was tired and forced. Entertainment Weekly liked it but seemed ashamed of liking it. Mixed reviews, as they say in the trade.

My review: I laughed out loud half a dozen times per show, a respectable number. I smiled more than I didn't.

The show's message: There are no bad dogs, just bad owners.

Two surprises: I didn't realize how quickly you could start to despise certain owners, and I didn't expect to feel so bad when the first dog was kicked off.

Ezzie, a Boston terrier and the first to go, was dragged down by her owner, Michael, the aspiring comic, who thought the performance was more about him than her. (The show's editors deserve an award for their ability to edit in just the right doggie look for the doggie moment.)

The second dog, Kenji, the giant schnauzer, also went down because of a bad owner, Elan, an aspiring dog salon owner. Elan had trouble controlling her huge and rambunctious dog and got the boot for speaking so sharply that she stressed out the schnauzer and the judges. Bad owner. Bad, bad owner.

If there is justice in the canine world, Beth Joy, who dresses her dog in clothes and had the dog's face tattooed on her ankle, will be a goner next week. Her dog is Bella Starlet, a mutt, and Beth Joy says her profession is acting manager for Bella. When a judge told Bella Starlet's owner, "A dog is not a Barbie doll, a dog is a dog," it almost sounded profound.

I have a couple of favorites already, including Tillman, the skateboarding English bulldog who was nipped by another dog. His owner, Ron, said about Tillman, "He's a farter, not a fighter."

When the moment of high doggie drama arrived, when each dog was supposed to be presented with a favorite food and show discipline and not go for it, Tillman's longing look toward his steak was doggone funny.

The sweetest moments are when owners look at their dogs lovingly and don't get mad when the dog fails. The looks between Bill and Star, a purebred Brittany who can sense when Bill's diabetic wife's blood sugar is low, are blissful.

David is seen bestowing countless kisses on Elvis, a Parson Russell terrier. David's level of nuttiness: He spent $10,000 on a "Bark Mitzvah" for Elvis.

A couple of owners who want to win the $250,000 prize and looked irked when the dog didn't do the job are people I wouldn't want in my house even to clean the cat box.

I've heard there's backstabbing in reality shows. Not sure how they'd carry that off here, but there is some real bitchiness. When the ability of the dogs to concentrate and ignore distractions was being tested, one dog owner muttered, "What could be more distracting than Brandy's voice?"

Brandy is another dog dresser. Her dog, Beacon, a white miniature schnauzer, doesn't go out without wearing an outfit. It would be like going out naked, owner Brandy explained. She hates it when someone else touches her dog.

Love the dog, loathe the owner.

The Greatest American Dog? Yours.

The Greatest American Cat? Mine.

Jane Ann Morrison's column appears Monday, Thursday and Saturday. E-mail her at Jane@reviewjournal.com or call (702) 383-0275.