No lions. No tigers. No bears.

But the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus' one-ring "hometown edition" was a hit with our family.

It's hard to pass up an excuse for cotton candy and stuffed, fluffy monkey and elephant souvenirs at the Show Me Center.

Throw in some clowns and high-wire acts and you have a recipe for enjoyment.

One act at the circus last weekend featured a clown and his pet poodle, who played hide-and-seek in a picnic basket and later ran around in a costume designed to look like a toy elephant.

The dog was sensational.

My wife, Joni, is convinced our pet pooch, Cassie, could be a circus dog.

Our sheltie can bark up a storm. But I'm not sure she's cut out for circus work.

Cassie knows how to chew up pencils, Kleenex and other assorted household items. She's a proud beggar when it comes to seeking a few scraps of food from our dinners. She has plenty of dog food, but she prefers to beg for our food.

I'm not sure how it would work in the circus ring, but Cassie has learned how to push open our bedroom door if we don't get it closed all the way.

She's also perfected the jump-on-your-master trick where she pounces on you as you lazily rest in bed.

Cassie makes no distinction between weekdays and weekends. Given the chance, she would pounce on Joni or crash on my head without hesitation even on weekends.

She's not a night owl. She's tired by 10 p.m., but she's ready to go again at 6 a.m. If there were early-bird circus shows, Cassie would be a star.

But evening shows could prove a problem.

Then there's the situation with the elephants. Cassie might annoy them, either that or decide she wants in on the act.

We all loved the elephant act, although for some reason our 8-year-old daughter, Bailey, wasn't sure at first if the two elephants were real.

"They're baby elephants," I explained to her satisfaction.

There was plenty to celebrate.

A friend of ours even got into the strong-man circus act, helping out with a cannonball routine. You've got to love audience participation.

There are times I contemplate shooting Cassie out of a cannon, but I don't think she would appreciate it.

Perhaps we should enter her in dog dancing and let her do the cha-cha-cha.

The Associated Press reports that there is actually a World Canine Freestyle Organization which promotes a "choreographed musical program" of animal and owner that involves a mixture of obedience, timing, music and sometimes costumes.

Organizers say there are some 9,000 people involved in the activity. Some dogs have learned to raise their paws in time to the music, thus giving hope to would-be conductors everywhere.

Top canine freestyle trainers can command $800 a day, $2,500 for a weekend workshop. Clearly a dog's life can be very rewarding to some.

Cassie can do a few tricks, but she so far has shown no signs of dancing.

She does, however, provide a resounding chorus of barks when the garbage truck rolls through the neighborhood.

It would be more entertaining if she wore sequins.

Mark Bliss is a staff writer with the Southeast Missourian.