"We have a vacancy in our field trial tomorrow," the retriever club secretary informed me on the phone.

"Would you like to run one of your dogs?" I was delighted to get the opportunity and agreed immediately.

By five am the next day Claret and I were on the road heading for our first competitive event of the season.

It's hard to see a black Labrador in the back of a black truck but Claret's gentle snoring reassured me she was there as we cruised smoothly along the motorway largely devoid of the congestion to be found later in the day.

We'd had months of training: strenuous swims across fast flowing rivers, devil-may-care retrieves over walls and fences, negotiated ditches and dykes; we were ready.

More than ready we actually fancied our chances to win.

After a brief stop for toast and coffee we arrived at the trial just in time to hear the secretary ask everyone to 'gather round'.

"How's it going, Vic?" asked a fellow competitor as Claret hopped down from the truck.

"Fine thanks."

"Which dog are you running?"

"This one."

"That one! You're kidding?"

If he thought I was going to be psyched out by cheap shots at my dog's ability he was wrong.

"Where's your dog, Vic?" asked another competitor and I began to wonder if this was an event for the terminally stupid.

"Right everyone," called the secretary. "All dogs this way."

I was amazed to see so many yellow Labradors, blacks normally outnumber them by five to one.

Claret didn't seem to notice her minority status as she trotted happily at my side.

"Hurry up, Vic, get your dog," called the dog steward.

"What the hell do you think this is?" I yelled, insulted at the inference.

"I think it's a black bitch," she replied calmly.

"So what's the problem?" I snapped.

"The problem is: she's not eligible to run."

"What? Of course she's eligible to run, it's a retriever trial isn't it?"

"Of course."

"Well, she's a retriever isn't she?"

"Err... yes."

"So what's your problem?"

The steward handed me a programme headed: "The YELLOW Labrador Club of England and Wales."

I'd jumped out of bed in the middle of the night and driven over two hundred miles only to find my dog was the wrong colour.

In my desperation I did think of turning Claret into a yellow Labrador but there just wasn't enough time for the paint to dry.
