The Chihuahua Affair: Best in Show

by Amy Jarecki

Her stomach erupted in a fit of butterflies. She gave him a friendly jab with her elbow. The last thing she needed was jitters—the romantic kind.

  “Welcome to the Toy Group,” the announcer bellowed as the steward pulled the curtain aside and gave the handlers the cue to march into the ring.

  The crowd erupted with applause as the little dogs pranced inside the grand hall. Sold out, there was standing room only. The camera lights made it hot and Rebecca arched her back as a bead of perspiration rolled down the middle of her spine.

  The enormous carpeted ring used for group was so much more formal than the smaller breed rings with green rubber floor mats.

  Twenty-two of the top toy dogs in the country paraded around with their fur groomed and their noses in the air. Judge Raymond Huff presided over the group in his black tuxedo and stood stoically, eyeing the conformation and attitude of each dog as they passed him. Once the parade completed, Mr. Huff walked down the length of the ring and eyed the dogs while the handlers worked to display exquisite conformation.

  Rebecca glanced at Matt. He had Patches in a nice stack. Beads of sweat streamed down his face and after the judge passed, she leaned toward him. “Do you have a handkerchief?”

  Matt swiped his forehead with the back of his hand. “No. Jeez, it’s hot under these lights.”

  “Sure is.” She pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed it to him. “Here. This’ll get you through the class.”

  He took it and winked. “Thanks.”

  Rebecca chuckled at his nervousness. The lights were so bright, it was difficult to even know where the cameras were, but she learned to spot them when she walked into the ring so she would ensure her dog presented to the camera at a good angle. She wanted this win. If Bruno could take group, he would be the number one male long coat Chihuahua in the country.

  Going through their paces, the handlers stacked their dogs on the table while the announcer gave a blurb on the confirmation and origin of their breed for the TV audience. The judge examined each one and had them execute a down-and-back.

  Jack did a nice job with his Papillion, and the Japanese Chin was exquisite. Rebecca leaned toward Matt and whispered, “That cute little bitch will place, mark my words.”

  An unexpected attack of butterflies flitted about her tummy when Matt shot her a sexy grin. When he showed up in his tailored navy blue suit this morning, she felt as giddy as a sixteen-year-old girl. Jeez, her knees had even buckled.

  But there wasn’t much time to fixate on grins or nice suits. The steward motioned for her to place Bruno on the table. The camera lined up with his front, so she stacked the Chihuahua to accentuate his apple dome and saucy expression.

  Judge Huff gave her a nod as he went over Bruno. “How are you this afternoon?”

  “It is a fine afternoon, isn’t it Judge?”

  “Yes it is. Down-and-back please.”

  Though the lights were too bright to see beyond the ring, Rebecca knew there was a camera just beyond the fence and she led Bruno directly toward it. She stopped momentarily for the photographer to get a good shot of him before she turned and headed back. Leading Bruno into a perfect stack, she squeezed a rubber squeaky disc to capture his attention. Bruno might be a bit boisterous back at her studio, but in the ring, he looked like a true-to-life toy.

  “Thank you,” Judge Huff said, watching her walk back to the line. He turned to Matt while the announcer jumped into an oration about the smooth coated Chihuahua. Sleek and handsome in his navy suit, Matt showcased Patches like he’d been showing dogs for years.

  Rebecca held her breath as Matt executed the pattern. They walked down well but Patches decided he’d had enough on the way back and lay down. There were a few giggles from the crowd as Matt stopped with a jolt.

  He whipped a treat from his pocket and worked quickly to coax him up, but they took a few steps and Patches flopped down again, this time rolling on his back and rubbing an insatiable itch. The crowd erupted in laughter at the sight of the big handsome man patiently coaxing Patches forward. Matt relented and gave him the treat. Patches jumped up and pranced to the judge, wagging his tail as if it were a splendid game.

  The crowd applauded and whistled while Matt grinned and trotted Patches back toward the line with the shreds of his finesse. The puppy must have known he’d been a hit because he danced behind Matt like a circus poodle. Back in line, Matt leaned into Rebecca. “That was embarrassing.”

  She choked back her laugh. “He’s a puppy. They’re a little unpredictable and it has been a long day for him.”

  Once the Pekingese finished his pattern, all the handlers stood and moved forward in anticipation of the judge’s instructions. Judge Huff had them showcase one more time and walked down the line of dogs. He pulled out Rebecca, Jack and his Papillion, the Japanese Chin, and a Shih Tzu. He had the four of them walk around the ring and boomed. “That’s how I want it—the Chihuahua, the Papillion, the Chin and the Shih Tzu.”

  Rebecca gasped with shocked astonishment. Matt flew to her side, picked her up and swung her in a circle.

  “Put me down,” she squealed.

  He twirled her one more time and set her on her feet in time to accept a gigantic first place ribbon and crystal bowl trophy. “You’re amazing.”

  “Thanks.” Her hands flew to her cheeks as her stomach squeezed. “Now I’ve got to get ready for Best in Show.”

  His eyes nearly popped out of his head. “Holy cow, that’s right. What do you need me to do?”

  She thrust the dog into his chest. “Take Bruno, I’ve got to change.”

  “Change?”

  Guffawing, she gestured to her outfit. “I can’t be in the Toy Group and B.I.S. on TV in the same suit.”

  Matt shook his head. “Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  Amanda pushed through the crowd. “Congratulations Momma!”

  Rebecca squeezed her in a tight embrace. “Thank you, sweetie.” She pushed back with a big laugh. “We both won big today!”

  Squealing and clapping her hands, Amanda jumped in place. “You’d better hurry. I can’t wait to see you in Best in Show!”

  Rebecca’s heart thundered. Bruno now ranked number one Chihuahua in the country and that would insure a gold plated invitation to Westminster.

  Amanda and Matt were waiting for her when she came out of the ladies’ room sporting a chic navy blue suit with elegant beaded lapels, complemented by a delicate ruffled white shirt. She smiled. “It’s nice to see the two of you getting along.”

  “Whatever, Mom.” Amanda rolled her chestnut eyes but reached out her arms for a hug. “You go out there and show them Chihuahuas rule.”

  Rebecca’s pulse raced. “You got it.”

  She was still breathless when she took Bruno behind the curtain to prepare. From the various groups, the dogs competing for Best in Show were asked to line up according to size—the Borzoi, the Komondor, the Golden Retriever, the Bedlington Terrier, the French Bulldog, and Rebecca’s Long Coat Chihuahua.

  Rebecca nodded pleasantly at the handlers—her competition. Her fist tightened on Bruno’s lead and her fingers slid against her moist palm. Teeth clenched, the air behind the curtain was suffocating and stagnant. Every handler there knew their dog had a chance at the grand prize and Rebecca’s stomach flipped. This was not only one of the biggest shows of the year, but a win would cement her reputation as a top breeder and handler.

  The curtain opened and the world turned into a blur. Rebecca masked her nerves by assuming a straight back and a confident stride. Bruno pattered beside her magnificently. She had seen to every minute detail of his grooming and the five-pound toy dog gaited alongside her with an attitude that announced to the world that he was king—at least king of the Toys.

  Rebecca flashed a quick nod toward Amanda and Matt as she walked past. They exuberantly applauded, Matt whistling and laughing.

  Odd. How can he do both at once?

  With only six dogs, this class would move quickly. Rebecca e
yed the judge—wearing a black sequined evening gown. She knew Judge Jacqueline Saunders’ breed was Australian Shepherd, and the Golden from the Sporting Group would be the one to beat.

  Similar to the Group classes, the announcer launched into a spiel about each dog as they were brought forward for Judge Saunders to examine their conformation. Rebecca watched the Borzoi from the Hound Group move forward, detecting a slight tendency to toe out, a flaw that would lose him points if the handler didn’t work to correct when returning to the judge. The announcer droned, “…The Borzoi was originally bred for coursing of wild game on open terrain, relying on sight rather than scent. The Borzoi should always possess unmistakable elegance with flowing lines, graceful in motion and repose.”

  Rebecca keenly watched the sheep-herding Komondor with its heavy shroud of long dreadlocks. A dog with a coat like that could hide any number of flaws but this one looked sound. She knew the handler, a professional that occasionally attended her classes when she had a new dog to start. Watching his smooth trot down and back, Rebecca considered this dog a contender for the trophy.

  The Golden, always a favorite with the crowd, though beautiful, bobbed his head when he gaited and Rebecca ranked him lower than Bruno. The Bedlington and the Frenchie were also impressive representatives of their breeds.

  When Rebecca executed her pattern, Judge Saunders leaned forward and said, “Very nice.” That didn’t fool Rebecca. All the dogs in this class were exquisite.

  “Take them around,” the judge cried. There would only be one place given. Best in Show was winner takes all. Once they paraded around the ring, the dogs lined up, stacking without error. As if she were the Queen of England, Jacqueline made her decision and strolled to the desk to sign the judge’s book.

  The stewards, carrying a silver trophy the size of a punch bowl, followed her back into the ring. Rebecca’s nails cut into her palms while she clutched the lead against her nerves. Bruno didn’t move as if he sensed the importance of the moment.

  “The winner is, Lee’s Darling Bruno!”

  The crowd erupted in an ear splitting roar. Rebecca didn’t recognize her voice when she cried out with joy, scooping Bruno into her arms. In an effervescent whirl of excitement, she accepted her prize. Blinded by a multitude of flashing cameras and overwhelmed with handshakes and voices repeating congratulations, she caught her breath and uttered, “Thank you, thank you so much, oh praise God, I can’t believe it. Thank you.”

  Amanda appeared and wrapped Rebecca in her arms. “Congratulations, Momma!”

  Matt surrounded them in a group hug. Rebecca closed her eyes. If only Ryan were there, this moment would be perfect.

  The judge pulled Amanda away. “Come here, Miss Amanda. I saw your win…”

  Rebecca’s heart wouldn’t stop fluttering, her chest heaved as if she’d run a mile. She locked eyes with Matt. His warm smile lit up his face, it was so utterly selfless. He leaned forward, his mouth only an inch from hers. Rebecca lowered her eyes to his lips. Those soft, masculine lips came closer. The butterflies went wild.

  Slowly, gently, he kissed her.

  Despite the crowd, Rebecca heard nothing but her own erratic heartbeat.

  Time slowed.

  Matt pulled back and grinned. His blue eyes glittered under the bright lights.

  Yes—he kissed her on the lips. Rebecca wanted this moment to last forever. Tickled on the inside, she floated like a feather on a summer’s breeze. She studied Matt’s eyes and saw unabashed happiness and something else—something nice. Oh it felt so good, she reached for more, but hands pulled her away—away from that breathtaking face that invited her in.

  As if fingers snapped, Rebecca found herself back in the moment. A reporter tugged on her arm asking her to grant an interview. Ushered to the cameras, she relayed the story of her wonderful dog, Bruno, and the journey that led her to Best in Show at the Philadelphia Kennel Club.

  ***

  The weekend had flown past in a blur and Matt had trouble concentrating at work the following Monday. He stood in front of a group of maintenance men, instructing them on lean manufacturing, something that he had done hundreds of times.

  Matt clicked on a video that he had taken of the men changing out molds on a plastic bottle blow-molding machine. The men rolled up their carts, shut the machine down and locked it out for safety. Everything seemed to progress normally until, one-by-one, each mechanic walked out of the picture, leaving the blow-molder standing alone. He let the tape run showing a lonely machine sitting untouched for three minutes, which seemed like ten. Matt clicked pause. “What’s wrong with this picture?”

  He looked across the room at blank stares and shrugging shoulders. “I had to go to the shop to get a part,” one mechanic said.

  Matt nodded. “Okay, Ed. Two things—why didn’t you have the part ready when you shut down the machine and why did two of you go to the parts room?”

  “Ah, I guess I didn’t think of that.”

  “It all adds up to downtime. Your company is losing money when the machine is down. The only way they can make money and pay your wages is when it’s running. You like earning money, right?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Well, being prepared before you start the change-over is one sure-fire way to ensure you’ll stay employed.” Matt had given this talk more times that he could remember, but it always got their attention. With his degree in Engineering, he had applied himself enthusiastically to developing better work flows and making other companies more efficient and profitable. He built a solid business, but since coming to New Jersey, his motivation lacked.

  As a professional, he refused to let his clients see this change in attitude, however, and approached every meeting with learned gusto and solid knowledge from having been through the process many times.

  On his drive home, he wondered what he would do if he left the partnership altogether. He loved being his own boss and shuddered at the thought of reporting to some demanding stuffed-shirt that applied continual pressure to his employees until they blew a gasket and quit.

  That experience was not foreign to him. He would never forget the acrid boss whose unrealistic demands forced outrageous hours, leading him and Brad to walk off the job and start their consulting business.

  He sighed as he knew he would get his edge back sooner or later, but he didn’t want to think about work. His mind floated to the excitement when Rebecca won Best in Show and the adrenalin rush he got when the judge gestured toward her. His team won and his subconscious took over. His body just did it, leaned forward and kissed her right on the lips. For only a second, but it happened again, that catch—her stunned eyes told him she liked it. Then they were mobbed by the crowd.

  Though intense, Rebecca made no mention of the connection after and it seemed to Matt the fleeting moment never happened. Thinking about it gave him a twinge of insecurity, a feeling he didn’t like. He wanted to be in control, on top of his game, the main man—confident.

  At least Rebecca invited him for Thanksgiving. With the dog show excitement, he hadn’t thought about how he would spend the holiday. Now, with the thrill of their wins over, he felt a little low. Rebecca didn’t have dog handling classes during holiday weeks and he had no excuse to see her until Thursday.

  Stopped at a traffic light, his cell buzzed. “Hello?”

  “Matt, it’s Ryan.”

  “Hey dude. What’s up?”

  “Doc gave me the okay to play and I need to practice.”

  “Great news. When do you want to get together?”

  “Can you come over tonight?”

  His heart did a backflip. “Sure thing.”

  Tossing the phone on the passenger seat, Matt flipped on the radio and by the next traffic light he was singing at the top of his lungs. He had an excuse to see Rebecca tonight—at least he thought he did. Unfortunately, when he arrived at the Lee house, Rebecca’s car was gone.

  Ryan ran out to greet him, football in hand. “Thanks for coming by,
dude.”

  “No problem, I needed a workout anyway. So, when’s your next game?”

  Ryan tossed him the ball. “Friday.”

  Matt caught it. “This Friday, the day after Thanksgiving?”

  “Nah, half the team goes out of town. I meant a week from Friday.”

  “Good, that gives you time to get back into football shape. Remember we have to go shopping the day after Thanksgiving.”

  Ryan took off at a run. “Oh yeah.”

  Matt hurled the ball straight into his hands. “You got those sizes for me?”

  “Yeah, I got it written down in my room.”

  “Your room? Do you think you’ll be able to find it?”

  “Smart ass.” Ryan grinned and flicked the ball at Matt.

  Matt ran patterns with Ryan both for a personal work out and to get the boy breathing heavily. Once they’d worked up a good sweat, Matt ran through plays throwing balls at the speed of bullets that Ryan snatched from the air like a pro.

  Matt watched the kid with growing pride. The time off had not been too detrimental for him and Matt had confidence that the coach would see Ryan’s determination and let him play. Once the boy had a few practices under his belt, he would be ready to take on any high school team. Matt pitied the schools that would have to face him once he was a senior. If Ryan could stay healthy, he would be a first-round pick for any college in the country.

  Chapter Ten

  A pang of disappointment tugged at Rebecca’s heart when Ryan told her Matt had been there. She grabbed her cell to call him. Scrolling through her contacts list she found his name but stopped and stared at it.

  What will I say? Sorry I missed you when Ryan called to come play ball? I really wanted to see you, but can’t let my children know my feelings? Would you kiss me just one more time so I can remember what it’s like? Who am I fooling?

  She slid her phone back into her pocket. Yeah, she’d made herself a promise not to get into a relationship ever again—and most certainly not before the kids left home. Henry was still there, all around her—his pictures, the furniture they’d picked out together, even the kids. Every moment of every day his memory hung around her neck—not like a ball and chain, but more like a precious locket from which she’d never be released.