by H. Y. Hanna
Honey turned to look. The Beagle was walking past them in the main throng of the arena, with his nose to the ground, his brow furrowed in concentration. They watched as he weaved between people and dogs and disappeared from sight. More dogs and humans were coming into the arena now and the grooming area was starting to fill up. Honey gave her space to a Golden Retriever, pleased that her turn was over.
Ruffster arrived at last, looking bleary-eyed and with serious bed-fur sticking up madly in tufts all over his body. Honey guessed she wasn’t the only one who had a tough time with early mornings. His Guy handed him over to Olivia and rushed off.
“Gone to fix some light problem by the show rings,” explained Ruffster, stretching and giving himself a lazy scratch. “Hey—saw Biscuit on the way here; didn’t even notice me sayin’ hello. Walked right past me with his nose on the ground and those crazy googly eyes he gets when he’s trackin’ somethin’. What’s he up to?”
“He’s probably tracking a scent from the fake Peemail,” said Honey. “I’m sure it was one of the dogs who was near the crate area yesterday. And I’m sure they would have been wet from the rain as well, because they would have been outside waiting by the Viking ship for me.” She hesitated, glancing at him sideways. “You know, I saw Colette nearby and her coat was wet.”
Ruffster stiffened. “What are you sayin’, mate?”
“Well ... she’s come all the way from France for this show. I’m sure she wants to win. Maybe she—”
“No way! Colette wouldn’t do anythin’ like that,” growled Ruffster.
“But we don’t really know her,” said Honey. “She would have a very good reason to—”
“No!” snarled Ruffster. “I know Colette! She would never do anythin’ to hurt anyone. It ... it must be one of the other dogs. Like what about Dior? That stuck-up Afghan—I’m sure he’s up to no good. Wasn’t he nearby as well?”
“Well, yes, he was,” Honey admitted. “But his coat wasn’t wet.”
“Well, maybe his human dried him off or somethin’. What about Ferrari, then? Cocky young mutt ... you heard him, he was braggin’ to everyone about doin’ anythin’ it takes to win. His crate is right next to Anja’s. It would have been really easy for him to sneak over and leave a fake Peemail.”
“But I didn’t see him—” said Honey.
“So what? Just because you didn’t see him doesn’t mean he wasn’t sneakin’ around!”
Honey took a step back. She had never seen her friend so angry. “Ruffster, calm down—”
“I am calm! I just don’t think you should go around sayin’ such things about Colette.”
“But, Ruffster, it could have been her. I know you like her, but—”
The insides of Ruffster’s ears went bright pink. “It’s ... it’s got nothin’ to do with whether I like her or not!”
“Ruffster, she was here just now and she told me that she thinks you have to do everything you can to win,” Honey said softly. “She even thought it was OK to cheat a little to win—her human was putting chalk on her coat to make it look whiter and she said everybody did that sort of thing.”
“Well, she’s right. If everybody’s doin’ it, why shouldn’t she do it too?” demanded Ruffster. “Anyway, that’s ... that’s different from doin’ stuff to hurt other dogs.”
“Yes, but where does it end? If she thinks it’s OK to do that, how do you know she wouldn’t—”
“NO.” Ruffster faced her, his eyes hard, his teeth bared. “Don’t you dare say things like that about Colette!”
“Ruffster ...” Honey was taken aback. In all their years as friends, Honey had never heard Ruffster take that tone with her or look at her like that.
“You always think you know everythin’,” Ruffster snarled. “Well, you’re wrong! Reckon it’s Dior—he’ll do anythin’ to keep the trophy another year—or that loudmouth, Ferrari. I know it’s one of those two and I’m goin’ to prove it!” He whirled and stormed away.
CHAPTER 11
Biscuit was soon back with news of his search, but Honey found it hard to concentrate on what he was saying. She kept thinking miserably of Ruffster’s words and the way he had snarled at her. He had never done that before. They had had fights before, of course—all good friends had them—but never like this. Now she didn’t even know where he had gone off to.
“Honey? Are you listening?”
“Sorry!” Honey refocused on Biscuit. “I didn’t catch that last part.”
“There were two scents in the Peemail,” said Biscuit patiently again. “They were really faint, but I picked them up. One I couldn’t work out at all—but the other one, I tracked it to a door in the side wall of the arena, quite near the crate area.”
“The door that led outside?” asked Honey quickly.
“No, not that side door. There’s another door next to it. I think it’s a storeroom,” Biscuit said. “I couldn’t get in so I tried to pick up the scent again. I’ve been all over arena, but—” he sighed, “—there are too many people and dogs here. The scent just got lost in the crowd.”
“Could you tell what kind of scent it was?”
Biscuit furrowed his brow. “Black. Burnt. Sticks in your throat. Makes you cough.” He hesitated. “I think I’ve smelled it in chimneys before.”
“There’s no chimney in the arena,” said Suka. “What about—”
A sudden commotion made them all look up. People were running towards the other end of the arena, talking excitedly. In the distance, they could hear the sounds of shouting and snarling and growling.
“That sounds like a dog fight!” cried Suka.
“Yes, and it seems to be coming from my crate area,” said Anja, coming up to join them. Behind her, Olivia and the Breeder peered across the arena, eyes anxious. Then someone began shrieking.
“Howling Hyenas, this sounds serious!” said Suka.
The humans grabbed their leashes and started running for the other end of the arena, pushing their way through the crowds that were also surging in that direction. When they arrived on the scene, they were astonished to see a group of people struggling to separate two dogs. One of the dogs was Ferrari and the other dog was Ruffster! He had the young Cocker Spaniel by the scruff of his neck and was growling and dragging him around.
“Let him go! Let him go!” shrieked a woman, flapping her hands at the dogs. Honey recognised her as the woman who had been trying to hand-feed Ferrari some roast chicken yesterday. She swung her handbag, trying to hit Ruffster with it, but missed and hit the head of the man next to her instead.
“Oomph!” The man pitched forwards and landed on the floor, dropping the plastic bones and rubber toys he had been holding. He must be Ferrari’s Chew Toy Therapist, Honey thought.
Another man tried to grab Ferrari and pull him away from Ruffster. “Let go of him, you mangy mongrel!” he yelled, raising his leg as if to kick Ruffster.
“Hey! Don’t you kick my dog!” Ruffster’s Guy arrived on the scene. He rushed up to the man and shoved him away.
The woman screamed. People shouted. The Chew Toy Therapist tried to get up, but someone stepped on his head. Ruffster’s Guy slipped and fell on his bum. Olivia lunged for Ruffster at the same time as the Breeder and they smacked their heads together. Suka’s Boy tried to grab Ruffster’s tail. Another man rushed in, tripped over the handbag, and fell on top of Ruffster’s Guy, who toppled back over the poor Chew Toy Therapist who went down again. Dogs ran around them all barking and howling.
It was total mayhem.
Finally, they managed to get Ruffster to let go of Ferrari’s scruff. It took a lot of convincing. Ruffster might have been a mongrel, but he had a lot of terrier in his blood and, as everybody knows, terriers never give up.
“I’m going to sue you for this!” screamed the woman. “I’m going to report you! He’s a monster! He ought to be muzzled! Attacking my poor little Ferrari-BooBoo like that!”
“Hey, lady, Ruffster’s a good dog. If he attacked your
dog, he must have a good reason,” Ruffster’s Guy said. “Anyway, your dog looks fine to me. Ruffster obviously wasn’t trying to hurt him—maybe just teach him a lesson. Maybe your pup needed it.”
They all looked at Ferrari. Ruffster’s Guy was right. The young Cocker Spaniel was completely unharmed. Ruffster must have just grabbed him by the loose skin at his neck—the same way mother dogs disciplined their pups. Ferrari didn’t even look scared. Just sulky.
“How dare you!” shrieked the woman. “Ferrari doesn’t need to be disciplined. He is perfect!”
Honey turned to look at Ruffster as the humans continued arguing. Her friend was looking a bit sheepish now.
“For kibble’s sake, Ruffster, what were you doing?” Honey asked.
“I caught him,” said Ruffster. “Caught him skulkin’ around behind Anja’s crate. I knew he was up to no good. Probably like the time he put poison in her food—”
“Hey, I didn’t poison her!” cried Ferrari indignantly. “I don’t do stuff like that! Why would I wanna poison Anja?”
“You didn’t want her to challenge you and win,” said Ruffster.
“She wouldn’t have won anyway,” said Ferrari scornfully. “Would have beat her, no problems. Don’t need to do that shifty stuff.”
“Then what were you doin’ sneakin’ around behind there?” demanded Ruffster,
“I—” Ferrari stopped. He looked down at his paws and shifted uncomfortably. “I was just gonna get something.”
“What?”
“It’s private,” muttered Ferrari.
“What?” Ruffster took a step forwards.
The young Cocker Spaniel looked even more embarrassed. He glanced around, then moved closer and lowered his voice. “My blankie.”
“Your blankie?” said Ruffster incredulously.
“Shhh!” Ferrari looked nervously around. “Not so loud! It’s bad for my kennel cred.”
“Your blankie,” Ruffster repeated, looking like he had swallowed a toad.
“Yeah, I like to suck on my blankie, OK?” Ferrari said defensively. “Had it since I was a baby puppy. It makes me feel, like, safe, you know? But they say I’m a big boy now and they won’t lemme have it no more. Then I found it in her bag. So I hid it behind Anja’s crate and I was gonna go over to check on it just now.” He looked at them earnestly. “Hey, don’t tell anyone, OK?”
Ruffster was still spluttering with disbelief as the young Cocker Spaniel was led back to his own crate. The humans had calmed down now and seemed to be talking things over nicely. Other people and dogs began to disperse, returning to their own crates and benches.
“You know, I have to say, whoever is behind these attacks—I don’t think it’s Ferrari,” said Suka, watching the young Cocker Spaniel stretch out on his pet futon. “He’s so confident and so convinced he’s going to win! I just don’t see him doing stuff to another dog because he just wouldn’t think he’d need to.”
“Yes,” Anja agreed. “He’s not worried about losing or about other dogs being competition.”
“I didn’t pick up his scent anywhere near the fake Peemail either,” added Biscuit.
“Still don’t trust him,” muttered Ruffster.
“Anyway, we haven’t had any more creepy howling or any other bad things happen so far today,” said Anja brightly. “Maybe we’re worrying for nothing and it will all stop now.”
Honey wasn’t so sure. There was a feeling of uneasy anticipation in the arena—like that feeling she got when she was sitting in the vet waiting room. But she kept her thoughts to herself as the Breeder came over to get her ready for the show.
They were going into a different ring this time. Honey stood with the Breeder as they waited to be called, feeling nervous as she looked at the dogs around her: a muscular Boxer, a distinguished Giant Schnauzer, an elegant Doberman, a hunky Bullmastiff and a striking Husky with a tail to rival Suka’s. They all looked amazing, with their glossy coats and proud heads. Honey felt embarrassed standing next to them. She looked down and saw a glob of slobber on her front paws. Oh no. She was drooling again. It must be the nerves. She licked her lips, trying to wipe her mouth clean, but she could feel drool oozing out of the corners of her mouth again. She thought of what had happened with her slobber the last time in the ring and cringed.
Honey looked desperately around. She saw several wads of tissue sticking out of the Breeder’s back pocket and an idea began to grow in her mind. Maybe if she stuffed those into the back of her mouth, down in the corners of her jowls, they would soak up the drool and keep her mouth dry while she was in the ring? Nobody would know—the good thing about having huge, baggy jowls was that you could hide anything in them and nobody would see.
Honey hesitated.
It would be cheating. Sort of.
But it would mean that she might have a better chance of winning. She remembered her daydream—the one of her standing proudly next to her Breeder as they were being presented with the winner’s silver cup. Wouldn’t that be amazing? She looked at the tissues again. Colette’s voice echoed in her head: “You have to use everything you can to look your best, do everything you can to win.”
Honey shifted her paws, a thrill of guilty excitement going through her.
Nobody would find out. You could be a winner.
The dogs around her began to move. The steward was calling them into the ring. It was now or never.
Honey looked at the tissues and took a deep breath.
CHAPTER 12
The spotlights swirled around the show ring, lighting up each dog as they all trotted around in a big circle. Honey held her head proudly and lifted her paws as high as she could as she made her way around the ring. Finally, she slowed and took her place in line with the other dogs along one side of the ring, stretching out into the STACK position.
The judge started moving down the line. Honey stood ready, holding her stomach in, keeping her head high, her legs stretched back ... and her jowls dry.
But not with tissues.
Honey had decided. She wasn’t going to cheat. If she won this, she wanted to do it honestly. She stood up taller as the judge came up to her. He was a different judge this time and his face was sterner. Honey could see that even the Breeder was nervous. Her voice sounded higher than normal as she responded to the judge’s comments and her hands were tense on the lead.
Honey felt her own body tense up, her breathing starting to get faster. She knew she mustn’t pant—it was such a bad look in the show ring—and besides, it would make her slobber. But she could feel her chest rising and falling rapidly, the breath whooshing in and out of her nose. She began to feel hot and panicky.
The judge ran his hand down her body and she couldn’t resist squirming slightly. He stopped and frowned at her. Honey swallowed and tried to focus her eyes ahead again, but she could feel drool starting to dribble from her lips. Ticks.
The judge motioned them to do their solo loop around the ring. But this time—although she didn’t trip—Honey knew that she didn’t do as well. She could feel her legs trembling, her stride faltering. Think majestic, Honey reminded herself frantically, but she was feeling more messy than majestic. When they finally took their place in line again with the other dogs, Honey knew it hadn’t been her best effort.
She wasn’t that surprised when the judge finally handed the winner’s ribbon to the Boxer, although she was surprised by the sharp stab of disappointment she felt. She’d never thought she’d care that much about a dog show, but somehow, a little part of her had really wanted to win.
“Never mind.” The Breeder smiled at Honey and stroked her head as they walked out of the ring. “You still did really well, Honey. Good girl!”
Honey felt a bit better. She looked over at the Boxer, standing proudly with his owner, the red ribbon tucked into his collar. He looked so happy, his tail wagging his whole bottom. He deserves to win, Honey thought, her heart feeling lighter.
As she was leaving the ring, Honey saw Dior comin
g out of the next show ring with the Afghan Lady who was proudly holding a red ribbon. First Place in his group. So ... the big Afghan Hound had gotten through to the next round. It looked like Dior would be one of the finalists competing for “Best in Show”. Honey watched him stride confidently past her and wondered if Ruffster was right about him after all. Dior would certainly have the best reason for wanting to stop other dogs from winning ... but enough to poison and hurt them?
The Afghan Lady smiled when she saw the Breeder and they paused to chat. Honey was glad, though, when Dior stood aloof on the other side of the humans and made no attempt to talk to her. Olivia walked past, stopping to give Honey a quick pat before hurrying on with her camera to the Boxer and his owner.
“Sorry you didn’t win this time.”
Honey turned to see Tiffany, Dior’s smaller sister, standing next to her. The small Afghan must have been waiting for her brother and their human outside the ring. She gave Honey a sympathetic wag of her tail.
“I was a bit disappointed,” Honey admitted. “But it’s only fair that a ‘proper’ show dog should win, not a doppelgänger impostor like me.” She laughed.
Tiffany looked over at the Boxer, posing proudly as he was photographed by Olivia. Something in the small Afghan’s eyes tugged at Honey’s heart. She glanced at Dior, standing nearby with his winner’s ribbon, and wondered what it was like for Tiffany, always living in her brother’s shadow.
“That Boxer is going to be stiff competition for the ‘Best in Show’ title,” said Tiffany, her eyes still on him.