The Deadly Dog Show (Roger and Suzanne South American Mystery Series Book 6)

by Jerold Last

  Albert looked up and added, “Sometimes, when we have time between dog shows, we like to hang out at the RV parks. The dogs are real popular there especially with some of the good old boys. That’s got us a lot of good invites to go hunting.”

  Sadie told us they had the best dog in the ring, but it didn't place because of bad judging. "We hit one of them thar handler's judges, who only look at dogs being handled by professionals. He completely ignored my puppy because I was showing him. That’s been happenin’ a lot too often around here, if you ask me. Well, things should even out since tomorrow's judge has liked our dogs in other shows."

  Another couple overheard that last part and walked over. "By now you folks should know dog shows are just like Lake Woebegone on the radio. All of the dogs are above average. They should all win each time. The only problem is the judges always get it wrong, except when they pick my dog. Hi there. I'm Pete and this is Jewel Harris. We own one of the GSP bitches you beat today, plus about six other dogs and bitches. You'll get used to seeing us as you campaign Juliet out here. You have a lovely young lady in Juliet, and we think the judge got it right today."

  The group grew a bit more as the last couple we hadn’t met joined us at the party. Pete introduced us to Elbert Hearst and Sarah Cord. Elbert was a former co-pilot with a local regional airline, in his 50s and an obviously gay, while Sarah was in her late 60s. The couple was a living legend in the German Shorthaired Pointer world. They lived together, sharing ownership of a dozen or so dogs they bred on a small ranch owned by Sarah in rural Northern California, about an hour’s drive east of Sacramento. They showed the dogs quite successfully. Elbert, who handled the dogs in the show ring, nodded to Bruce as if to say, "I've been hearing about you."

  I was starting to get the hang of this. We were a generation or so younger than most of them. The well-dressed owners like Ingrid also handled their dogs in the show ring. The casually dressed ones like Howard were the pertinent others, usually a spouse. If both members of a couple were dressed casually either they had a much earlier ring time, or they used a professional handler. Bruce was most welcome, especially by the owners who also handled their own dogs. This was not a stratified society in the social sense, at least not among the sporting dog owners. Handlers and owners were equals here. Everyone bragged as much about how well the dogs hunted and "worked" as they did about how well they performed in the beauty contests of the show ring. Many of the owner-handlers had been middle-middle class, blue-collar workers while they made their money, with several former military, electricians, and plumbers in the group. Others were married to white-collar types, who were indulging the spouse’s passion for dogs, often as half of a retired couple.

  We chatted a while about where both Bruce and I came from, my family, and our level of experience with show dogs. They were quite interested in Bruce, who they all seemed to want to size up. A new professional handler on the circuit was a rarity and they wanted to hear all about where he worked previously and which dogs he had shown. Elbert seemed especially curious about Bruce's history in the dog show world. Bruce indicated he’d handled dogs in European shows while he was in the army, making sure to be vague about the specifics of where and when. I made a mental note to ask Sherry about the best way to discuss Bruce’s background in the future, while inventing answers like “I don’t know” for the time being.

  The increased camaraderie from both groups carried over to Sunday when we arrived at the show ring. Bruce and Juliet celebrated by picking up three additional select points, even though the Breed's dog, Butch took "Best of Breed" again. Sherry's debriefing at the end of the GSP judging was short and to the point. "Good job, Bruce. I couldn't have done any better myself. The best dog won. Butch is at least as good as Juliet, and all else being equal, a good shorthaired dog will do better than a comparable bitch at the group competition level. Size matters.”

  After Juliet and the other GSPs had finished, we settled into what had become our usual routine for the rest of the dog show. Bruce and I became spectators and watched some of the other breeds compete, especially the judging. At random, we picked a ring or two to observe the judging while we got to know the other handlers faces and styles. We began to recognize that certain handlers tended to show specific breeds, and noted the styles of dog particular judges seemed to favor. Bruce and I bought catalogues and made notes of what we saw, discussing what we were seeing as the judging took place. Bruce was strong on the technical parts, focusing on what flaws he saw in the dogs, especially when they were stacked or moving, and what mistakes he saw the handlers make. I focused on how the spectators reacted, especially whether the judge made popular choices of winners or if the crowd complained about which dogs were being selected. As we watched and learned, our ongoing discussions became more sophisticated. I was starting to learn how to watch the competition and what to look for in the ring.

  Our ultimate reality check occurred at the end of each day, when we got Sherry’s debriefing. The judging at this particular show had been completely on the up and up as far as she was concerned. "Roger, the judges picked the right dogs. I didn't see anything here yesterday or today to make me question the integrity of the judging. If something suspicious were going to happen, I'd bet it would be in the Golden Gate Show. The stakes will be higher because it's a bigger and more prestigious show."

  Once we got away from Sherry, Bruce had some interesting observations to share. “The handlers do a lot of gambling among themselves, like golf caddies betting on their golfer at a tournament. But there’s more to it than just loyalty or chauvinism. The handlers know their dogs very well and can take into account which dogs are in the right mood to show at their best. They also know most of the judges and their preferences very well too. They know who likes big dogs versus small ones, light colored versus dark, dogs that move well versus dogs that look better stacked, and a whole bunch of other idiosyncratic behaviors that help to explain why a judge picks a specific dog to win on that day. There’s a lot of money riding on each event for the individual handlers, in addition to the handling fees they earn. There’s also the money they bet on themselves, and the under the table money some of the owners pay as bonuses for big wins. Needless to say, not all of this income gets reported to the IRS.

  Bruce walked a little bit faster, as if to make doubly sure Sherry couldn’t hear him. I had to lengthen my strides to keep up. “After I didn’t do much in the first two shows in Stockton, they all assumed I wasn’t going to be competitive and nobody was betting on me here in Woodland. The odds were pretty good, so I bet on myself. When I walked off with over a thousand dollars in winnings for the last two days, there was a lot of mumbling that I had dogged it in Stockton to set higher odds against me here. Strangely enough, they admired me all the more for suckering them and setting myself up for a big payoff at the next show. The best news is, nobody is going to ask why a professional handler like me started out so badly in Stockton and got so much better the next week in Woodland.”

  I looked closely at Bruce. “Obviously there are some possibilities for corruption of the impartiality of the show ring here. Do you think the AKC needs to know about this?”

  He stared right back at me, looking me directly in the eye. “I’m pretty sure the AKC already does. It has probably been a tradition for decades. I haven’t seen anything yet that makes me think any of the handlers would ever bet against themselves or deliberately lose by messing up in the show ring. The damage to their reputation would be too big of a risk. On the other hand, if a handler and a judge colluded there’d be easy money to be made in these betting pools. That might be something we should be looking out for in subsequent shows.”

  Chapter13.A short break between shows at home

  After an uneventful eight-hour plus ride, we were home. Our hands were full of our bags and we had an eager Juliet, who knew where she was and what was waiting for her inside the house, on a leash. Bruce rang the doorbell. The door opened and Suzanne planted a big kiss on my lips
. “How was the dog show?”

  We walked in and deposited our junk on the floor. Bruce took the leash off Juliet and let her loose to explore her house. “Fun,” I answered. Bruce got some rosettes and some points on Juliet this time around and I got to schmooze with some of the owners. You're going to have to set up a rosette and trophy area in the family room. How about your weekend with us gone? Did everything go smoothly without your favorite Nanny?”

  Suzanne paused perceptibly before answering. “I really enjoyed the quality time by myself with Robert. He’s easy to take care of and play with. But I had another deep breather and hang-up telephone call. It was almost as if the caller was checking up on whether I was here or with you in Woodland, and was afraid I might recognize their voice if they said anything. I think we have a real weirdo on the other end of the telephone.”

  I didn’t like the sound of this at all. Suzanne could take care of herself, but it was impossible to predict what a weirdo like this might do. And now there was Robert to worry about, especially with Bruce not being there to protect him for large blocks of time. "That's what people have caller ID for. What number did the call come from?"

  Suzanne looked as frustrated as I felt. "I don't know. The caller ID was blocked."

  Maybe there was a better way? This couldn’t just go on or we’d both start climbing the walls. "I'll have Vincent set up a tap on our home phone line tomorrow. We can get past caller I.D. blocking the next time they call, if there is a next time."

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  There weren’t any majors scheduled for next weekend so we finally had some non-working time at home without a dog show we had to go to. It was time for Suzanne and me to learn more about the daily life of a dog owner.

  Having a dog is like having a kid, except it grows faster than a human and can’t talk back. The terrible twos for a human, when every other word is “NO”, is replaced by the 12 week old puppy who needs to see how far it can stretch the leash at every opportunity to get into trouble. Bruce reminded us frequently during these early days as Juliet’s humans that responsible dog ownership requires the human to think of the pet’s needs at least as often as they think of their own.

  Bruce looked over to Juliet, who lay contentedly at his feet waiting to see what new adventure awaited her next. “If you’re going to keep a happy and well-adjusted German Shorthaired Pointer as your pet, you have to remember how much the breed needs plenty of exercise. That means just about every day, not just on weekends. Short walks with Robert won’t be enough exercise for Juliet. They're more like a warm-up. She needs to get a chance to run a bunch of miles regularly. Otherwise she’ll get bored and restless. That’s when things get chewed on and broken. Always remember that idle paws are the devil’s playthings! Someday you’ll need to think about getting her another dog to play with. Then she could get some of that exercise in the back yard, but in the long term you and she will have a lot more fun if you can use her exercise as quality time for the three of you.”

  Juliet barked once to let Bruce and us know she was listening to all of this advice and agreeing with it. "With a mature adult dog like Juliet, there's no such thing as too much exercise or too much running. Her body is designed to keep going and going, just like the Energizer Bunny. For future reference you need to be careful not to run puppies the same way. Until the growth plates in the legs are closed, their bones are still too soft for constant impact. You can't take puppies on multi-mile runs without risking serious orthopedic issues. Once the growth plates seal and the bones harden, somewhere around 18 months of age for this breed, they're ready to become your running mate. You guys are joggers. Figure that Juliet can get some of the exercise she needs by running with you, especially once you’re confident she’ll obey you enough to let her run around without a leash.”

  Bruce leaned over to scratch Juliet’s ears. She licked his hand and purred contentedly. “When you get a dog from a serious breeder like Sherry, who shows her dogs in conformation competitions, you should be able to assume that a lot of money was already invested in your pet. It would start with health screening on their sire and dam before she bred them. This would include X-rays of the hips and elbows for the Orthopedic Foundation for Animals to certify that their puppies will likely be structurally sound. I checked Juliet’s paperwork and both of her parents passed that particular test, as did Juliet herself. Juliet and her parents also had cardiac, thyroid, and eye exams done by specialists, as well as genetic tests for specific skin and eye diseases. It cost a lot of money to run those tests, but that’s what you have to do if you want to breed dogs that reliably throw sound and healthy puppies. After all that investment, you can bet that Sherry raised Juliet with the same amount of concern for her physical and mental well-being, including getting lots of exercise."

  Since Bruce was on hand to watch Robert, Suzanne and I took advantage of the freedom to get back into our own former, pre-Robert, exercise routine of jogging. We had promised each other to get back into our regular exercise routines together. This was the right time to do it. But now it was the three of us. Our new dog came fully trained and physically ready to go jogging. We planned our runs to include Juliet in our exercise routine whenever possible. The trick was to find places where she could be off lead to run with us. There was no way she could get her needs filled on a leash trotting at our speed and distance. Most of the time we took her to the nearby hills and canyons where we could run on a well maintained trail, while she could run around to her heart’s content in the surrounding fenced off area of woods and grassy meadows.

  I loved watching her bound over fallen logs and stretch herself out as she quite literally flew through the meadows and leaped over fallen branches. It looked as if her feet never actually made contact with the ground and she might soar after the birds during her endless pursuit of anything that flew. The basic equation seemed to be she covered 3-4 times the distances we did on these runs at 3-4 times the speed. If we ran a mile, she ran four miles. It didn’t matter how fast we tried to run. She had no trouble lapping us, even if she bounded off exploring wherever the whim took her.

  Perhaps because she was so well exercised, Juliet didn't have a "hyper" personality. It was more like she had an on-off switch. In the field she loved nothing more than to run as fast as she could, as far as she could. We could see pure joy in her bounding gait and flat out speed. The occasional opportunity to chase down a squirrel until it climbed a tree brought bliss to our beautiful bitch. At home, she was a totally different dog. If someone came to the door she'd bark an alert. The rest of the time she would lie curled up on one of the two couches designated as our ‘shared’ space. Juliet was most content when her body was planted firmly in contact with Suzanne, Bruce, or me. Part of her regular ritual was to crawl into Suzanne's lap at night in front of the TV, when Suzanne was reading papers in journals or grading exams. She would curl up into a compact ball and lay in Suzanne’s lap gently snoring or just hanging out there, until it was time for bed. At night, she slept in her crate, which was kept in Bruce's room as per his request. That way he could let her out in the mornings without waking up Robert.

  Juliet was first and foremost Bruce's dog. She looked to him for training, guidance, breakfast, and dinner. But she loved Suzanne, who was her personal human, in a very special way. She also loved Robert, who she would protect to the death, as she would have loved her own puppy. I was a trusted friend to play with or hang out with, but clearly not on the list of those she was responsible to protect. To Juliet, if you were a human, any human, you deserved a kiss or three. She was most generous with her doggy kisses, a lick of the nose or face with her tongue. If you were a human, you deserved a kiss or three. It took her about a second or two to size up a visitor or someone we'd meet on the street. Most were offered kisses. But she had an almost perfect sense of who was not a dog lover or was afraid of dogs, and these folks got more restrained greetings.


  One Sunday morning, the three of us were more than ready to go for a run where we could see some new scenery, preferably grass and trees in their less formally gardened state. Suzanne and I changed into running gear and Suzanne drove east on Santa Monica Boulevard to North Highland Avenue to Franklin Avenue to Canyon Drive to Lake Hollywood Park. We hit practically all the traffic lights, so it only took us about twenty minutes to drive the eight miles from our house to the lake.

  We got out of the car with Juliet. “I don’t remember having been here before. Where are we?” I asked.

  Suzanne lapsed briefly into professor mode. “You've been here with me once before, a long time ago, just about when we moved in together. But we drove here a different way this time, so I'm sure everything looks new. This lake and park is a fenced-off reservoir maintained by the City of Los Angeles. There’s a nice path running along the fence, about a four-mile run around the perimeter of the lake. It’s far enough off the usual roads, even people who live in the same zip code don’t know about it,” she replied.

  I hadn’t ever seen Juliet turned loose in such a large area before. "Do you think it's safe to let Juliet run off lead in a place this big? Until now we’ve been letting her run in a large overgrown dog park where her boundaries were defined by the fences, but here she can get pretty far out of our sight. Will she come back when we call her?"