by H. Y. Hanna
CHAPTER 19
Honey crashed to a halt as the fence loomed up in front of her. Beyond it, she could see the Phantom Hound still moving away in the distance, growing smaller and smaller. Any minute now, she would lose sight of him in the mist. Panting and drooling, she jumped up with her paws on the top bar of the fence, whining with frustration. Behind her, she could hear shouting and the sound of Ruffster barking, but she ignored it. She had to find a way to get over the fence.
Dropping to all fours, Honey paced in front of the fence. She couldn’t go under—she remembered how she had nearly got stuck last night—even with the widened gap, it would take too long. But how about going over?
Honey backed up several steps and looked at the fence. It was high—she wasn’t sure she could clear it—but if she took a running jump, she might be able to get at least halfway across and then she could scramble the rest of the way over. She backed up some more and took a deep breath.
Then she felt a hand grab her collar.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” said Olivia next to her. “You’re going nowhere, young lady.”
Honey whined and tugged on her collar, but Olivia held firm. Honey looked desperately back at the field. The Phantom Hound was gone. She couldn’t see him anywhere. Her ears and tail fell. She’d lost her chance.
“Come on,” said Olivia, hauling Honey with her back towards the caravan. “If you’re so keen for some exercise, we’ll go for a walk. But on leash!”
Ten minutes later, they were setting off from the caravan again, this time with Honey firmly secured on her leash. She turned immediately towards the field and tried to pull in that direction. Olivia took no notice, though, but turned in the opposite direction and marched off towards the front of the arena. Honey had no choice but to follow.
A weak sun was beginning to show through the clouds now and the mist was slowly fading. The grass was still wet with dew though—something Honey hadn’t noticed earlier when she was racing to get into the field—and she picked her way fastidiously across the caravan parking area, making sure to avoid any puddles. Since it was so early, there was still very little activity around. As they approached the front door of the arena, however, they saw a few other early risers out for their morning walks. Honey pricked her ears as she spied a human and dog coming towards them. It was Tiffany and the Afghan Lady. The humans smiled and greeted each other, and they all fell into step together as they continued their way around the arena.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” said Tiffany, giving Honey a sidelong look.
Honey looked at her in surprise. “Why are you sorry?”
“My brother, Dior.” Tiffany looked embarrassed. “I heard what he said to you—you know, when your mongrel friend was being ... um ... blamed by the other dogs.”
Honey laughed. “Don’t worry. I didn’t take it to heart. Anyway, he’s probably right. Showing should be left to the professionals. I don’t think I have the right attitude for it ... you know, doing whatever it takes to win.”
Tiffany looked at her in surprise. “Don’t you want to be a winner?”
“Well, I do, I guess ...” said Honey slowly. “And I was really disappointed when I didn’t get through the second show. But you know what? I’ve decided that there are other ways of being a winner than just getting a red ribbon in the show ring.”
“You’re just saying that because you’ve won once already,” said Tiffany bitterly. “You don’t know what it’s like to never win anything, ever.”
Honey looked at her, unsure what to say.
Tiffany gave herself a shake and changed the subject. “Have you heard the gossip? Everyone’s saying that Graf’s owner has come back! It’s the first time anyone has seen her in ten years. I heard my human talking about it with some of the other breeders last night. No one can believe she’s come back to watch the show.”
“I ... I think I might have seen her,” said Honey. “I saw a woman standing under Graf’s portrait in the arena yesterday morning. She was crying.”
“Yes, that was probably her,” said Tiffany wryly. “All the dogs say she’s just been walking around, crying a lot. You know they never found Graf’s body after the fire ... maybe that’s why she’s still so sad. Humans have a tough time saying goodbye.”
“She was carrying a picture of him when I saw her,” Honey remembered.
“A picture?” Tiffany cocked her head. “You mean, like the one of him on the wall?”
“No, this one was a bit different. It wasn’t an official show pose. He was just standing in a garden with his tail wagging and one of his ears—the grey one—cocked. A bit like my friend, Ruffster.”
“Grey ear?” Tiffany looked puzzled. “No, you must have been mistaken. That can’t have been Graf. Graf was pure white. That was one of the reasons he won—his beautiful, pure-white coat.”
“Oh.” Honey hesitated. “She seemed so sad ... I thought it had to be him. Do you think it was another Puli she had owned?”
“I don’t know,” Tiffany said doubtfully. “I think Graf was her first dog—and I heard my human say she retired from showing after that and hasn’t owned another dog since.”
They were heading back to the caravans now and paused beside one of the first vehicles parked in the row: a station wagon with a big blue tent erected next to it.
“This is us,” said Tiffany. “I can see Dior’s waiting for us. He must be starving for breakfast.”
Honey saw the big Afghan lying regally just inside the raised flaps of the blue tent. Then she noticed a yellow car with a sloping roof parked in the next space. She remembered that car from the party. It was Marie and Colette’s. There was no sign of the French Poodle and her human, although their blue tent had its flaps firmly closed. It was early yet and perhaps they were sleeping in.
Honey turned to Tiffany. “Do you know Colette well?”
“Colette the French Poodle?” Tiffany grinned. “My brother really likes her. Actually, I think half the boy dogs at the show really like her. If she wins her group today, she’ll be a strong contender for ‘Best in Show’ tomorrow.”
As long as something bad doesn’t happen to her, thought Honey. But then, if Colette was the one behind these attacks, she wouldn’t have anything to worry about. Honey thought of Colette’s furtive behaviour. Then she thought of the way Colette had rushed to Ruffster’s defence yesterday. She just couldn’t believe that the beautiful French Poodle would do anything to harm another dog. But what if I’m wrong? What if Colette is hiding her true nature behind her soft, white curls—like a wolf in sheep’s clothing?
Honey was surprised so see their caravan empty when they returned. Where were Ruffster and his Guy?
“They’ve gone to the arena,” said Suka, coming out of the neighbouring caravan and stretching. “His Guy took one proper look at Ruffster’s coat this morning and bundled him off. I think there’s a dog wash in the grooming area.” She glanced over her shoulder at her caravan, where they could hear human voices inside, then came closer to Honey. “Hey, I think I’ve come up with a way we could sneak out to that big hill the cows were talking about.”
“How?” asked Honey eagerly.
“Diversion,” said Suka. “Best thing is to get the humans’ attention elsewhere and keep them so busy that no one will be watching when we sneak out of the arena.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“Well, Biscuit told me that they’re holding an extra Beagle show this morning. It’s a special one where pet Beagles are invited as well. I think it’s going to raise money for rescue dogs. If we can create a diversion during that show and keep the humans busy, then we’ll be able to run off unseen. I have an idea—I’ve told Biscuit about it already—and when the time comes, I just need you and Ruffster to be ready to run.”
“Need me to run where?”
They turned.
And stared.
A dog stood wagging his tail at them. It took Honey a minute to realise that it was Ruffster. His
usual scruffy brown fur was now groomed and slicked closed to his body. All the wild tufts sticking up everywhere had gone. His raggedy tail had been trimmed into a slim shaft and his one upright ear was flattened to his head with a large strip of tape. Honey did a double take. Ruffster had a blue ribbon clipped onto his head.
“What d’you think?” He bounced eagerly up to them. “Do I look good?”
“Er ...” Honey faltered.
Suka, as usual, had no problems with being bluntly honest. “Howling Hyenas, Ruffster, what have you done to yourself?”
“Went to the groomer, mate, after my bath,” said Ruffster, beaming. “I’m a new dog now! I even got an accessory. They’re real fashionable, you know. All the trendy dogs have ’em.”
“What? You’re wearing a ribbon?” Suka started to laugh. “And for barking out loud, what’s happened to your ear?”
“They taped it down,” explained Ruffster. “So my ears can be the same on both sides. None of the pedigree dogs have one ear that stands up. It’s really ugly.”
“Oh ... I’ve always loved your different ears,” said Honey.
“Yeah, your ears were cool,” said Suka, eyeing the tape. “And unique. Why do you want to look all boring and the same as everybody else? And what’s that awful smell? Have they sprayed some gunk onto your coat?”
Honey noticed that Ruffster’s ears and tail were starting to droop.
“You look nice,” she said hastily. “You ... you just don’t really look like yourself.”
“Well, o’ course, that’s the idea!” said Ruffster. He shuffled his paws, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yesterday, when all those dogs were gangin’ up on me ... and then Colette came up and was defendin’ me ... It was amazin’—I never thought she’d even look at me! So ... so I reckon she’s used to all these fancy pedigree types ... she might like me better if I looked more like ... you know, like Dior and those other show dogs.” He dropped his head and mumbled. “Instead o’ a scruffy mongrel.”
“Ruffster, I think she likes you just the way you are,” said Honey gently.
“Yeah, you should just be yourself,” said Suka, nodding.
Ruffster looked deflated.
Honey gave Suka a nudge and said brightly, “Anyway! Suka was just telling me about her great escape plan.” She turned to the Husky. “Wait—I just thought of something: the only way this would work is if we’re all around the Beagle ring and can leave together at the same time. It’s no use if Ruffster and I are stuck here at the caravans or in some other part of the arena. But how are we going to make sure our humans take us all over to the ring?”
Suka waved her fluffy tail and grinned. “Leave that to me.
CHAPTER 20
After breakfast, Honey followed Olivia into the caravan. She stood and watched tensely as her human moved some camera equipment into a smaller bag.
“Honey!” hissed Suka from outside the caravan door. “Did Olivia bring any of her photos with her? Are there any in her bags?”
Honey peered into one of the other bags. “Yes, there are several in the side pocket here. There are a couple of me ... oh, and here’s us at the park last time. I think she takes them around to show people what her photos look like, in case they’d like her to take some for them too.”
“Have a look—can you see any of Biscuit?” asked Suka urgently.
Honey stuck her nose into the sheaf of photos and checked through them. “Yes, there’s one of him here. He’s sitting under a tree.”
“Great! Bring it out ... and hurry!”
Honey gripped the edge of the photograph with her front teeth and pulled it slowly out of the bag, careful not to get any of her slobber on it. She looked at Olivia out of the corner of her eye. Her human was still busy rummaging around inside her equipment bag. Quickly, Honey turned and slipped out the caravan door.
Suka grabbed the picture off her. “OK, wait here for me. And if Olivia comes out, make sure she doesn’t walk off. Keep her here!”
Honey watched in puzzlement as Suka hurried back to the caravan that she was sharing with Biscuit. The Beagle was sitting quietly by the caravan steps with Suka’s Boy. Suka thrust the photograph at her Boy and wagged her tail, barking excitedly. Her Boy looked down at the picture and smiled in delight. Suka did a play bow and pranced around him. Her Boy laughed, then called for his mother. A minute later, the Boy’s Mother and Biscuit’s Missus came bustling out of the caravan, obviously getting ready to head off for the arena.
“Look what Suka brought me! It’s a picture of Biscuit, isn’t it?” The Boy held the photo up to show his mother.
“Oh, that’s a gorgeous one,” said the Boy’s Mother, smiling. “Is it one of Olivia’s?”
Biscuit’s Missus took the picture and looked at it thoughtfully. “Yes, it is. And you’re right ... it is gorgeous. Hmm ... I wonder ...” She looked up and called out, “Olivia!”
Olivia stuck her head out of the caravan.
“Are you heading over to the arena now?”
“Yes, I’m going to get some shots of the Toy Group,” said Olivia, slinging her black camera bag over her shoulder and coming down the caravan steps.
“Would you mind coming over to our Beagle show first?” Biscuit’s Missus held up the photo of Biscuit. “This is such a gorgeous shot. I’m sure a lot of the other Beagle owners would love some individual pictures of their dogs. It would be a great help with the fundraising.”
“Sure.” Olivia smiled. “I can do that.” She looked at Honey and Ruffster. “What about the dogs, though? I promised I’d look after Ruffster this morning.”
“Oh, bring them along,” said the Boy’s Mother. “They’ve all been so well-behaved this morning. I’m sure they’ll just lie quietly outside the ring.”
Honey turned to Suka in awe as they all began trooping towards the arena together. “I don’t know how you did that.”
Suka grinned. “Practice.”
The arena was even busier today, the place jam-packed with bodies human and canine. Since it was the last day before the final “Best in Show” tomorrow, the schedule included the newly introduced special categories, like “Prettiest Pet” and “Waggiest Tail”—and many families from the local towns had brought their pet dogs in for a bit of fun competition. Honey saw Ruffster begin to look self-conscious as they passed several cross-breeds and mongrels who stared at his slicked coat, taped ear, and ribboned head.
“What kind o’ dog is that?” She heard one dog ask another, eyeing Ruffster curiously.
“Dunno. Looks like a right weird ’un to me.”
Ruffster shrank even smaller and walked faster, keeping his head down. They made their way through the crowds, towards the show rings in the centre of the arena. A burst of clapping greeted them just as they arrived at the first ring. The judge was handing a woman the red ribbon for first place and there was more clapping. Then a group of Dalmatians filed out of the ring past Honey, gossiping amongst themselves.
“You’re looking gorgeous, Freckles.”
“Oh, thank you. That new grooming brush does wonders.”
“Did you see Missy? Oh, my woofness, has she lost her figure since last season!”
“That’s what having puppies will do to ya.”
“Yes, I was never the same after my last litter, darling.”
“Have you tried doga? I’ve heard it’s really good ...”
The Dalmatians moved off and Honey saw a group of Beagles lining up to take their place in the ring. There was a lot of excited chattering amongst them as pet Beagles mixed in with the professional show dogs. Honey settled obediently by the row of chairs next to the show ring and her friends settled around her, all of them on their best behaviour.
The judge began to call the Beagles into the ring and their humans left them to move closer to watch. Olivia ran around the outside of the ring, busily focusing and snapping shots on her camera. The dogs lay quietly and waited. Five minutes passed. Then ten. Honey looked worriedly at Suka and Biscuit. I
f they didn’t make a move soon, the show would be over. It was a big group of Beagles, but the judge was already more than halfway down the line.
Then she saw Biscuit get up stealthily, his eyes focused on something. Honey turned to look. A man was walking slowly past the ring, pausing constantly to talk to those around him. She recognised him as one of the humans who stood by the food stalls. She had seen him on the first day, smiling at people, offering samples from a tray. Now he was walking around with an inviting smile on his face again and in his hands was a large tray stacked high with cookies. The rich aroma of cinnamon and almonds wafted over the ring. Honey saw several Beagles in the ring look around, their noses twitching excitedly.
Biscuit scooted along the ground, hugging the backs of the chairs, and paused just by the edge of the ring. Then he gathered himself and shot into the main throng of people walking past, heading for the man with the tray. He dived between people’s legs, still keeping as low to the ground as possible.
“What’s he doing?” hissed Honey.
“Creating a diversion,” said Suka smugly. “C’mon! We’d better move!”
She got up and started slinking in Biscuit’s direction. Ruffster followed. Honey stood up, but one of the Beagle owners nearby glanced at her and she quickly sat down again. Ticks. It was a lot easier for the smaller dogs to skulk around and move unnoticed. They could stay under the human eye level. But it was almost impossible for her to move without the humans seeing. Everyone always noticed a Great Dane.
Honey took a deep breath and tried again. This time, she didn’t stand up, but crawled forwards on her belly. Which still wasn’t easy—her deep chest and long legs meant that she couldn’t wriggle along the floor; she had to sort of hump along, with her bum in the air. But thankfully, this time, no human glanced her way. Slowly, tortuously, she made her way around the outside of the chairs until she joined Suka and Ruffster hunched at the edge of the ring.