The first answer that came to mind was that it didn’t require either youth or strength to push someone down a flight of steps if you caught them off guard. Since I doubted that that was where Dorothy was headed, however, I kept that thought to myself and shook my head.
“It means that we’ve been around the block a few times. We’ve got the experience and the know-how to be winners. Maybe we don’t look as formidable as some of the other finalists, but nobody should make the mistake of underestimating us. We’ve got a few tricks left up our sleeves yet.”
Perfect, I thought. That was just what this contest needed. More tricks.
The bus double parked on a busy cross street just around the corner from the south end of Central Park. Horns blared, streams of pedestrians filled the sidewalks, traffic eddied around us in fits and starts. Welcome to the big city.
Faith had her ears flattened against her head. I wished I could do the same.
Instead I reached down and checked the clasp on her leash and collar, making sure that everything was hooked up tight. My Poodle was dependable off leash, but in the midst of this much noise and confusion I wasn’t about to take any chances.
As soon as the bus stopped moving, Doug stepped up to the front to make a brief announcement. “In just a minute, we’ll be heading across Fifth Avenue and into the park. Once we’re there, I want each of you to do whatever makes you feel comfortable with regard to your own dog. My only request is that you try to stay at least somewhat loosely grouped. We, the judges, will be observing your interaction with the public and Charlie will be capturing much of what happens on film. So we don’t want to have to be looking all over trying to figure out where everyone went. Okay?”
Dutifully we all nodded.
“Field trips,” Ben muttered under his breath. “You gotta love them. It’s just like being back in elementary school.”
“At least we don’t have to wear name tags and hold hands,” Allison Redding replied. Ginger had ridden into the city on the seat beside Allison and her husband. Now she hopped the Brittany down to the floor and prepared to disembark.
One by one, we made our way down the narrow aisle. The judges, sitting in the front, had followed Doug and gotten off first. Dorothy and I, seated in the back, were bringing up the rear.
By the time Faith and I reached the door, I could see that Sam had been wrong. Despite New Yorkers’ reputation for being blasé, a small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk to watch us unload. Kind of like watching clowns emerge from a Volkswagen at the circus, I imagined.
Though the human contestants were largely ignored, murmurs of approval greeted each newly revealed canine. I had to give credit to Simone and Chris. With our dogs’ pictures plastered all over the sides of the bus, the Champions PR team had created the impression that the five finalists were celebrities, even though they had yet to do anything to justify their fame.
Faith and I hopped down the two steps onto the street. The judges had moved to one side to give us room. Faith and I joined Dorothy, the Reddings, and Lisa, who’d pressed together in a tight little group between the bus and the sidewalk. We all awaited further instruction.
Ben, however, had ideas of his own. Dragging Brando behind him, he slithered between two parked cars and went to greet the assembled crowd.
“Wow,” I heard a teenage girl say. “Are these movie dogs?”
“No, stupid,” her friend replied. “They’re on TV. Read the sign.”
“The sign says they eat dog food,” someone called out. “Hey, my dog eats dog food. Can he be famous, too?”
Standing on the street with the bus and bumper-to bumper traffic behind me, and parked cars and a crowd of spectators in front, I slid a hand down and pressed Faith closer to my thigh. She didn’t seem perturbed but I knew that was because she trusted me not to put her in harm’s way. Breathing in exhaust fumes, and waiting impatiently, I hoped I was going to be able to keep my word.
I glanced over at Doug and the other judges. They were engrossed in watching Ben and Brando work the crowd and seemed to have forgotten all about the rest of us. The actor was busy explaining to the teenage girls that he had been a soap opera star. One of them was fishing around in her purse for a piece of paper for him to sign. How that was supposed to help Brando’s cause I had no idea.
Charlie walked around onto the sidewalk and began to take pictures. Predictably that made even more people stop to see what was happening.
I waited a minute, then stepped forward and caught Doug’s eye. “Maybe we should get moving into the park? You probably don’t want us to do this here in the street, do you?”
Doug didn’t respond right away, but Simone did. “You’re absolutely right,” she said. “Ben? Brando? Wrap it up here, we’re moving over to the park.”
The command she barked out was enough to finally galvanize Doug into action. He hopped up onto the sidewalk and addressed the crowd.
“On behalf of Champions’ new dog food, Chow Down, welcome! The dogs you see here are five finalists, one of whom will become our new spokesdog and be featured on television and in print advertising. We’ll be heading over to Central Park now, where we’ll be handing out free samples of the product. Of course you’re welcome to come and join us. You’ll be able to meet all the dogs, then later you can go to our web site and vote for your favorite. Thank you all for your support!”
Doug’s rousing speech didn’t have the effect he seemed to be hoping for. Nobody applauded. In fact nobody even looked terribly interested. As celebrities, our dogs had had potential. As advertising for a dog food company, they were boring.
“Yeah, whatever,” said a young man with multiple piercings.
He turned and walked away. Others followed. In less than a minute, we were all by ourselves again. Looking disgruntled, Ben rejoined the fold.
“Way to shut down a party, man,” Chris said with a grin.
Simone quickly turned away; I suspected she might have been hiding a smile. Cindy, standing beside Chris, looked worried; obviously she was new to insurrection in the ranks. Doug ignored all of them and rounded us up.
Bunched together like a Brownie troop on a mission, we crossed Fifth Avenue and took the path that led into the park. Now that we weren’t hemmed in by traffic and pedestrians, everyone relaxed and let out their leashes.
The dogs, confined during the long bus ride, began to hop and play. Several lowered their noses to the ground to sniff out likely spots. I hoped everyone had remembered to bring baggies for cleanup.
Faith and Ginger were eager to stretch their legs. When we came to a small meadow, dotted here and there by picnickers and mothers with small children, Allison reached down and unfastened Ginger’s lead. Bill pulled out a tennis ball and gave it a toss. The Brittany went flying across the grass after it.
Faith watched the action and whined softly under her breath. I could understand her desire to run, but I wasn’t at all sure I liked the idea of turning her loose. A glance at the others seemed to confirm my feelings of trepidation.
Yoda was on the ground for once, but Lisa had a tight hold on her slender leash. Ditto Dorothy and MacDuff. Ben, so eager to set Brando free in an enclosed room, seemed to have no intention of doing so here.
“Can I touch?” asked a small voice.
I turned back and saw a girl of perhaps three, her chubby hand extended toward Faith’s nose. The Poodle was bigger than she was, but the child showed no fear. Her mother grasped the little girl’s other hand firmly.
“That’s a Poodle, right?” she said. “Taylor loves Poodles, but we’ve never seen one that big before. Is she like a super-size, or what?”
And so the fun began.
18
After that initial, tentative approach, Faith and I were seldom alone for more than a few minutes at a time. I’d bathed the Poodle and blown her dry the previous evening and even though her trim was nothing fancy by dog show standards, its precise lines and plush look drew a lot of favorable attention. After the f
ifth person in a row asked me how I got the pom pon on Faith’s tail so perfectly round, I began to think that I should have printed up answer cards to hand out.
“Having fun?” asked Doug, coming over to see how we were doing.
Several hours had already passed. During that time, I’d been acutely aware of Doug and the other judges, wandering among the members of our group, observing the interactions, and surreptitiously taking notes. Meanwhile Charlie was busy snapping pictures, recording the day’s events for what, no doubt, would be further discussion and dissection by the committee.
I’m normally not a self-conscious person but being the object of that kind of intense scrutiny had quickly led to paranoia. Though I’d devoted a decent amount of energy to promoting Faith, it was clear that I was neither as outgoing nor as motivated as some of the other contestants. Nor was I about to change my ways in an effort to keep up.
Ben continued to work the area effortlessly; drawing attention to himself seemed to come naturally. Dorothy, meanwhile, had mastered the consummate handler’s trick of fading into the background and letting her dog shine. The Reddings played in the meadow with Ginger, the three of them gamboling in the grass like there was nothing else in the world that they’d rather be doing. Only Lisa looked strained and wary when people loomed above her little Yorkie and gushed about how cute she was. She seemed to dislike all the fuss and public adulation just as much as I did.
When Doug approached me, I was more than ready to take a break. Being center stage was a wearying experience. Even at dog shows, we’d never had to be “on” for hours at a time. Now both of us were beginning to feel the strain.
“Some of it’s fun,” I replied honestly in answer to Doug’s question. “But it’s hard work, too.”
“I’m sorry if you expected differently.” He motioned toward a bench in the shade beneath a large elm tree and Faith and I followed him there. As the three of us got settled, Doug continued to talk.
“We on the committee spent quite a lot of time considering just that very issue before we initiated the contest. It’s one thing to hire a ‘professional’ dog to represent a product. Those dogs and their handlers know exactly what to expect from a job like this. They’ve seen the hard work that goes on behind the surface glamor, and that makes them easier to work with. But it also means that you lose the personal connection that comes with dealing with somebody’s real pet.”
“You also forfeit the free publicity that a contest like this is able to generate in the media.”
“There’s that, too,” Doug agreed. “At any rate, Faith seems to be handling things well. Better, I’d venture to say, than some of the others. She really is a people dog, isn’t she?”
That went a long way toward softening some of the prickliness I’d been feeling. What can I say? Praise my dog and I’ll love you forever.
“I wish I could take special credit, but honestly that’s just the way Poodles are. It’s highly unusual to find one that doesn’t love people. Poodles would much rather spend time with their owners than with other dogs.”
As if on cue, Faith sat down, nestled herself next to my legs and rested her head on my thigh. Her dark eyes lifted to link with mine and she and blew out a happy sigh.
The effect wasn’t lost on Doug. Actually it was my impression that the contest chairman didn’t miss much of anything. I was also cynical enough to believe that even this seemingly spontaneous break we were sharing had probably been scripted ahead of time.
“We tried to take breed characteristics into account when we were choosing our finalists,” Doug said. “Not that every breed doesn’t have some great qualities, but I think most people would agree that not every breed is equally suited for the unique function we have in mind.”
He leaned back, rested his arm across the top of the bench, and gazed out across the meadow. Even while sitting with Faith and me, he was still evaluating the other finalists’ performances.
I wondered whether he’d been picking up on the same things I had: That Brando didn’t always respond favorably to unwanted attention from strangers. That MacDuff could be aloof, showing more interest in the chipmunks and squirrels that crossed his path than in the people. That Yoda was sometimes overwhelmed by all the fuss; small children poking their fingers in her direction intimidated the Yorkie enough to make her hide behind Lisa’s legs.
Not that I was trying to be overly critical of my fellow contestants. What the committee was asking us to do was a difficult task. But if the spokesdog for Chow Down was going to be required to make numerous personal appearances on behalf of the product, I supposed we’d all just better buckle down and get used to it.
“Picked a favorite yet?” I asked idly.
I didn’t really expect an answer, so I was surprised when Doug said, “We all have our favorites. I suppose that’s human nature. Right or wrong, it’s been that way from the very beginning.”
As he spoke, he was watching Yoda. Lisa had gathered the Yorkie up in her arms and was standing off to one side. Body hunched protectively around the small dog as if shielding her from potential harm, Lisa’s demeanor clearly proclaimed that the two of them wished to be left alone.
It wasn’t to be. Simone strode purposefully toward the pair. She reached out and draped a comforting arm around Lisa’s shoulders. I half-expected the dog owner to shrug her off, but she didn’t. Instead, heads tipped toward each other, the two women quickly became engrossed in conversation.
“We’re trying to cut her some slack,” Doug said when he realized I was watching, just as he was. “I’m sure none of this is easy for Lisa.”
“And yet it was her choice to stay in the contest,” I pointed out. “Some people would find that an odd decision under the circumstances.”
Doug only shrugged. “Who knows how other people’s minds work? Especially women. Certainly not me.”
Charlie had been tracking Ginger, who’d been romping with some teenagers, but now he zeroed in on Lisa and Simone. The photographer started to head in their direction, but Doug caught his eye and waved him off. Then Dorothy plucked at the photographer’s sleeve. Charlie turned and focused his lens on MacDuff. Doug relaxed and went back to speaking.
“We all noticed right away that Lisa and Yoda were uncomfortable out here. Then Simone pointed out that according to the information we’d received, Larry was the one who always took the dog in the show ring. Lisa was accustomed to remaining in the background.”
I hadn’t thought about that either. I supposed it put a new spin on Lisa’s somewhat defensive behavior.
“So maybe it was unfair of us to spring a test like this on her.”
“You sprang it on all of us. If Lisa and Yoda can’t cope now, what’s going to happen if they win?”
“Good question. And something we’ll have to take into consideration when we make our decision.”
Doug’s eyes were still following the two women. With all the activity going on around us, something about the pair continued to draw his interest.
I thought about Dorothy and Chris, who’d met the previous year over a Scottie puppy. I considered the fact that Doug had shown up within seconds of Larry’s fall and yet somehow managed not to see anything. And I decided to ask another question.
“How long have you known the Kims?”
He looked around quickly. “What do you mean?”
It seemed like a relatively simple question to me. It was interesting that he didn’t have a similarly simple answer.
“When did you first meet?”
“Last week. Monday morning it must have been. You know, at the opening reception.”
In the space of mere seconds he’d gone from being confused by the question to being so sure of his answer that he’d felt compelled to give it three times.
“The day that Larry Kim died.”
“Right.”
“So you hadn’t had any prior contact with them?”
Doug paused to ponder his reply. “I imagine I might have spo
ken with them after Yoda was named as one of our finalists,” he said after a minute. “Just like I spoke with you.”
The difference wasn’t lost on me. Doug remembered speaking with me. He merely imagined he might have spoken with the Kims. My ego is pretty healthy but even I know I’m not necessarily that memorable.
“So then—”
“Sorry,” said Doug. He quickly rose. “I’ve got to go see what Cindy wants.”
The product manager was standing on the dirt path with Ben and Brando. Though she was gazing in our direction, I wouldn’t have guessed from that fact that she wanted anything.
It didn’t matter. Doug was already gone, striding away across the field.
And I was left to wonder why my questions had made him so uncomfortable.
After that, things wrapped up pretty quickly. The contest committee decided that they’d seen enough. Unfortunately, if the judges had formed any opinions about which of the finalists might be best suited to fill the position, they weren’t sharing the news with us.
Our group had been giddy with enthusiasm and anticipation on our way into the park. Exiting, we were more subdued. Actually, I think most of us were just tired. The bus was waiting where we’d left it. One by one, we climbed onboard gratefully.
“Well,” said Allison Redding, grabbing a seat next to me and Faith, “that was loads of fun, wasn’t it?”
As Bill and Ginger had settled into a seat across the aisle, I looked over to make sure she wasn’t talking to them. Neither her dog nor her husband was paying any attention to her. I took that to mean that the perky comment had been addressed to me.
“Loads,” I agreed. I’m afraid my level of excitement didn’t quite match hers.
“Come on”—she poked my arm and bounced in her seat—“admit it. It was nice to do something that made Ginger and Faith look like a couple of stars.”
There was that.
Allison’s voice dropped. “You were watching the others. I know because I was, too. Did you see Brando snarl at that little boy with the catcher’s mitt? Ben covered it up pretty well, but I’m pretty sure that Simone noticed. And speaking of Simone, who died and left her queen? The way she was always bossing everyone around and telling them what to do? It was enough to really get on my nerves.”
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