Shrinking Violet Definitely Needs A Dog

by Lou Kuenzler

  “Chip,

  “Chip,

  “Chip,

  “Chip, ” I bellowed helplessly. There were so many commands.

  By the day before the dog show, I had almost lost my voice.

  “It is shouting that has done that,” said Yana, when she heard me wheeze on the last evening. “Shouting is not good for you or the dog. Try to keep your voice very small … very calm.”

  “OK,” I croaked.

  And when Nisha arrived, she found me crawling around the course, whispering in Chip’s ear.

  “Come on, boy. Steady now,” I breathed.

  Round we went, me on all fours and Chip running along on his short legs right beside me. Over the see-saw he went. In and out of the poles. And he even sat in the Pause Box for about one and a half seconds, which was a record.

  “You do look funny,” said Nisha. “Are you pretending to be a dog?”

  “I’m just explaining things to him calmly,” I said. “Yana was right. That’s the best practice Chip’s ever done. He pays no attention AT ALL when I shout.” I crawled close to his ear, talking very quietly again. “But if I get down on his level and whisper, he’s a very good dog.”

  Chip wagged his tail like mad.

  “If only you could do that tomorrow,” said Nish. “For the real thing.”

  “Wouldn’t it be brilliant if I could,” I said. “But this judge – Lady Valance – is really posh and important. I bet she’d disqualify me if I crawled around on my hands and knees.”

  Chip rolled on his back, waiting to have his belly tickled.

  “We’ve done enough for today,” I said. “That’s the best Chip’s ever done. We’ll just have to wait and see if it is good enough to beat Riley.”

  “Fingers crossed,” said Nisha, but she didn’t sound very sure. Whatever kind of dog Speedy was, he was bound to be bigger and faster and more obedient than Chip.

  “Do you ever wish you had entered the Agility Trial with … well, with a different dog?” said Nisha gently.

  “You mean instead of Chip? No! Never!” I picked him up and hugged him tightly. “He may be small, and a bit of a rascal … but Chip’s the only dog in the for me,” I said.

  A lump rose in my throat. I realized I didn’t mean that just for the Agility Trial. I meant for ever…

  “Even if Uncle Max brought me a brand new puppy, I wouldn’t want it now,” I said, burying my face in Chip’s scruffy fur. “Chip is the best dog ever. I wouldn’t swap him for anything.”

  “And he thinks you’re the best girl, too,” laughed Nish, as Chip stared up at me with his big dark eyes.

  “That’s why I’ve got to win the Agility Trial,” I said. “It’ll prove to Mum I’m responsible enough to handle a dog, and it’ll show everybody that me and Chip are the perfect match.”

  “Just one problem,” said Nisha.

  “Speedy,” I groaned.

  “Ha! Talk about perfect timing,” said a whiny voice, and Riley Paterson appeared from nowhere. His head popped up over the orchard wall like a rat from a hole.

  “That’s trespassing! Visitors are supposed to report to reception,” said Nisha, as he swung his leg over the top.

  “How long have you been listening?” I asked.

  “Long enough to hear you talking about my dog,” he grinned. “You really should see her, you know.”

  It was obvious Riley had been hanging around on the road outside and climbed up the wall just to taunt us. He was probably trying to spy on me and Chip practising the agility course.

  He made a silly L-shape with his fingers and nearly toppled off the top of the wall. “Worried, are you?” he said, steadying himself and holding on to the bricks more tightly.

  “No! Chip will beat your dog any day,” I said. “What kind of breed did you say she was?”

  “I didn’t,” said Riley. He swung his leg back over the orchard wall and dropped down on to the street again. “I can’t wait till you see her. Save your pocket money,” he called. “You’re going to need it to buy ten big fat bars of TOFFAMEL. All for me!” I heard him laughing as he ran away.

  “I don’t have any pocket money,” I whispered once he’d gone. “Mum’s making me pay her back for losing my wellie.”

  “Then you’ll just have to win,” smiled Nisha as we walked back inside and tucked Chip up in his basket for the night.

  “Speedy is probably just one of those joke names that means the opposite,” I said.

  “Like Tiny,” nodded Nish as we passed his cage. “He’s called that even though he’s .”

  “Exactly,” I said. Tiny leapt at the bars as if he was trying eat us. “Speedy has probably only got three legs. She’s probably not a dog at all. She’s probably a tortoise.”

  “Or, if she is a dog, she’ll be a dainty poodle. Too posh to run about and jump,” said Nisha.

  But neither of us could imagine Ratty-Riley with a poodle.

  I wanted to arrive at the PAW THINGS DOG SHOW early. But Bunny came round and made me try on six nearly identical pairs of blue satin bridesmaid’s slippers to see which she liked best. There was no sign of Uncle Max.

  “It’s best us girls do all the arrangements together,” winked Bunny, trying the very first pair of slippers all over again.

  “Will you remind Uncle Max I’m going to be at the dog show later, though? I’m doing an Agility Trial,” I said. “I think he’d really enjoy it and—”

  “Maxi doesn’t have time for that sort of nonsense,” sighed Bunny. “You don’t seem to realize, Violet, but the wedding is ”

  “But—”

  “I shouldn’t snap,” she said, dabbing at her lips with a hankie. “It’s just that everything needs to be so perfect.” She gathered up the pale blue slippers. “I’ve booked Maxi a barber’s appointment to have his moustache trimmed this afternoon. Sorry!”

  I wish Uncle Max could have come to the dog show. He would have loved it. It was There were pet shop stalls and information tents all round the edge of the grass in King’s Park and a big ring beside the bandstand where the events would happen. As well as the trial, there were breed classes and puppy classes, and even special classes for old dogs called veterans. There was the Dog Who Looks Most Like Its Owner contest, a Sheepdog Display with real sheep and a Sniffer Dog Show from the police.

  I saw all kinds, shapes and sizes of dogs – a beautiful Hungarian vizsla the colour of marmalade, a tiny papillon with ears like a flying butterfly and an Old English sheepdog with hair even more than Tiff’s. If I had brought along my Bumper Book Of Dogs I could have scored a zillion points for ticking off so many different breeds. But I had no time for my Bumper Book now. All I could think about was the Agility Trial. I glanced around. No sign of Riley yet. The competition was due to start in twenty minutes.

  But, before that, Nisha was determined to get Chip looking his best. We spread out a rug under a quiet oak tree beside the tennis courts.

  “He can’t be scruffy in the ring,” she explained. “Especially not with someone as fancy as Lady Valance judging. Haven’t you ever seen dog shows on the telly? The dogs always look Pass me the brush…”

  Nisha pointed towards a basket full of grooming things. It looked like she was preparing poor Chip for a fashion show. She had brought along and and and something called Doggy Delux Super Shine Furspray, which came in a gold bone-shaped can.

  “It’ll make Chip’s coat sparkle.” She sprayed a behind his ears. “It smells like pomegranate, too,” she smiled.

  “But does Chip want to smell like pomegranate?” I asked. From the look on Chip’s face, he did He wrinkled his little puggy nose and rolled his big black eyes. Nisha took no notice. It’s like when we’re doing a project at school. Once she gets started, nothing can stop her.

  She smoothed down Chip’s shaggy brown hair, wiped his face and combed his fluffy ears. She even blew his nose with a tissue and brushed his teeth – which wasn’t easy because Chip kept the bristles off the toothbrush.

  She s
crubbed and sprayed and rinsed and curled. I hardly recognized poor Chip, he looked so and Then Nisha tied a big silver ribbon round his neck and a pom-pom on the end of his tail.

  “What do you think?” she asked, glancing nervously at her watch. “Ready to go?”

  “Erm…”

  Nisha looked at me, waiting for an answer. Chip was looking at me, too.

  “Gosh… What can I say?” Dogs hate it when you laugh at them, so I kept my face as straight as I possibly could. “He looks very … different.”

  “Different is good, isn’t it?” said Nisha. “He was so scruffy before and…”

  She looked down at Chip, who was trying to bite the pom-pom off his tail. He chased it round and round in circles.

  “Oh dear,” giggled Nisha. “I’ve gone too far, haven’t I?”

  “Maybe just a bit…” I didn’t want to tell her that poor Chip looked like he’d been dressed up in the doggy version of my Little Bo bridesmaid’s dress.

  “I suppose we could take off the bow,” said Nisha.

  “And the pom-pom…?” I suggested.

  Poor Nish – the minute we’d taken all the ribbons off, Chip rolled on the ground. He squirmed and scratched until his coat stuck up like a

  That’s better! I could just imagine him saying. Thank goodness that lot has gone. A dog’s not supposed to have ribbons … not a rough, tough dog like me.

  “Oh Chip! Come here,” scolded Nisha. “I’ve got to brush you again now. You’re all covered in leaves and grass.”

  “No time for that,” I said. “Listen.”

  The loudspeaker boomed across the park:

  I sprang to my feet and glanced round the park.

  “Where’s Riley?” I said. “Can you see him? If he doesn’t get here soon, he’s going to miss it.”

  “Perhaps he isn’t coming,” said Nisha, hopefully.

  “He’s probably too scared to face Chip the Mighty!” I said, crossing my fingers as we ran towards the main ring. We charged past Mum, who was sipping a cup of herbal tea in the cafe.

  “See you there. Dad’s buying a programme,” she called. “Good luck!”

  “I’m going to need it,” I panted to Nisha, and we ran on towards the bandstand. “At least the scoreboard says there are only three dogs entered. See? Me and Chip. Someone called Sophy with a dog named Jester. And, of course, Ratty-Riley with Spee…” I stopped dead in my tracks. “Nisha, look.”

  Riley was standing by the entrance to the show ring.

  “Oh no!” Nisha grabbed my arm. “So Speedy wasn’t a joke name after all,” she groaned.

  I shook my head. “Doesn’t look like it.”

  Riley was chatting to a couple of boys from school. Standing next to him was a beautiful silver greyhound!

  “She’s like a racehorse-dog,” I gasped.

  Just looking at Speedy you could tell she was Tall and fit and lean – she was pulling away from Riley, straining on her lead and pawing at the ground.

  Nisha and I ducked behind the programme stand. Riley hadn’t spotted us yet.

  “Hello, girls.” Dad was getting his change.

  “Shhh!” I peered round the edge of the stand, trying to get another quick look at Speedy. Riley was still just standing around, chatting to the boys. But Speedy’s muscles as she pulled on the lead. She was desperate to get into the ring.

  “Ah,” said Dad, following my gaze. “Stiff competition, I see. The Patersons have kept greyhounds for years. Riley’s dad breeds them for racing. Didn’t you know?”

  “No!” My palms felt sweaty.

  If I had known I wouldn’t have told Riley I could beat him. He would let me forget this. Worse still, if he beat me, I couldn’t prove to Mum and Dad that I’d trained Chip perfectly (or at least enough to keep him out of trouble).

  “ ” Chip jumped up as a girl with a collie came towards the show ring. She squeezed round the side of the programme stand and stood beside us.

  “Hi, I’m Sophy,” she said as Chip and the collie sniffed each other. She looked about three years older than me, with a lovely big smile and long, straight brown hair. “This is Jester.” She ruffled his black and white ears. “We’re up first, I think.”

  Collies are brilliant at agility – they are intelligent and easy to train…

  “We’re in BIG trouble, Nish,” I whispered. “Chip won’t stand a chance against Jester the collie and Speedy the greyhound.”

  “I really love your dog,” smiled Sophy, tickling Chip under the chin. “He’s adorable.”

  “He is adorable,” I said, furious with myself for being downhearted. I glanced over at Dad who was checking his texts. “Chip’s not mine yet, but he will be … somehow … soon!”

  “Fingers crossed,” said Nisha.

  “Good luck. It’s Violet, isn’t it?” said Sophy as she hurried towards the entrance to the ring.

  “Yes,” I whispered, hoping Ratty-Riley wouldn’t turn round and see me.

  But he did.

  “There you are! I thought you’d chickened out,” he grinned. He jerked on Speedy’s lead so that she lifted her head. “Do you like my dog?”

  “Yes,” I said truthfully. “She’s very pretty.”

  “Pretty fast!” roared Riley. He and looked as if he might wet himself, he thought his joke was so funny. “Are you scared we’re going to beat you?”

  “No. Not really.” I shook my head.

  “Well, you should be!” Riley pulled hard on Speedy’s lead, winding it around his fist. “Just look at that little guinea pig.”

  “Chip is a guinea pig,” I said.

  Riley laughed. “He doesn’t even reach to Speedy’s knees! Do you really think you can beat a purebred champion greyhound with that?”

  “Easy,” I said, as Chip rolled on to his back, waiting to have his belly tickled.

  “Easy-peasy,” agreed Nisha.

  But no matter how much we both Chip, we knew that wasn’t true.

  As the competition started, Riley ran off to join the boys from school. They were sitting on the bandstand steps.

  Nisha and I stayed by the side of the ring with Dad. I watched as Sophy and Jester began the course. He was a lovely old dog with a grey muzzle and flecks of white across his black sheepdog fur.

  “Come on, boy,” Sophy urged him as she took off his lead and they swung through the starting gate. He ambled forward and wagged his tail.

  “He loves this, does Jester,” said an old man standing on the other side of Dad. I think he must have been Sophy’s grandfather. “He used to be a champion agility dog when he was younger. But he’s like me – getting on a bit now. Not as fast as he was.”

  “He’s still doing well, though,” said Dad.

  It was true. Jester had over the jump and now Sophy was calling him through the tunnel. Nisha clapped.

  “Are you watching?” I said to Chip. “It’s through the gate first. Then the jump. Then the tunnel. We need to remember the route. We’ll lose points if we go the wrong way.”

  Chip his tail.

  “Good luck, the pair of you,” said Dad, patting me on the head and ruffling Chip’s ear. He waved across the ring to Mum, who’d found seats for them under the scoreboard. “We’ll be watching.”

  “This is it, Nish,” I said as Dad left us. I kept my eyes fixed on everything Sophy was doing. As Jester reached the white Pause Box painted on the grass, she raised her hand and smiled.

  “Stay!” she commanded. Jester sat still as a statue right in the middle of the square. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds… Then he was off again, heading for the see-saw.

  “Don’t forget to stop there, Chip.” I said, bending to whisper in his ear. “That’s when you have to stay very still, remember?”

  I knew what Chip would be thinking: Sitting still is boring.

  “We have to do well,” I said. “Especially for Yana.” I’d only caught a glimpse of her once or twice since we had arrived at the show. She was busy organizing volunteers, manning th
e information tent and selling raffle tickets to raise money for But she’d wished me luck this morning when I had collected Chip.

  “There she is!” I saw the top of her green spiky hair over by the bandstand. She rattled her donation tin but Riley and the boys shook their heads and ignored her.

  When he wasn’t sniggering and pointing at Chip, Riley was running up and down the grass with Speedy. He kept making her sit and sprint, just to show how fast she could go. He wasn’t even watching to see how well Jester handled the course or to try and learn the route.

  “That dog is ancient,” was all I heard him say as the old collie took a slow run-up and stiffly through the hanging tyre.

  It was true. Jester wasn’t fast. But he was careful. He hadn’t knocked a single obstacle – not even with his thick, wagging tail. And now, for one last tricky test – the weaving poles.

  Jester trotted slowly and calmly through, glancing from side to side as he wound his way steadily between the posts.

  “Perfect!” Nisha and I clapped as he crossed the finish line and completed a clear round.

  “That’s going to be hard for us to beat, Chip,” I said. But I was pleased for Sophy. She had been so friendly and Jester was a lovely old dog.

  the loudspeaker boomed.

  “Eight out of ten,” said Nisha. “That’s good, right?”

  “It’s brilliant,” I agreed.

  “Then let’s just hope Riley and Speedy make a mess of it,” said Nisha. “As long as you can beat them, that’s the main thing.”

  “Exactly,” I agreed, but the loudspeaker drowned me out.

  Riley unclipped Speedy’s lead and she shot into the ring like a rocket.

  “See you later, Violet,” he grinned. “Don’t forget to buy those TOFFAMELS!”

  “I’d like to stuff those TOFFAMELS up his nose,” I growled to Nisha.

  “I know. He’s so full of himself,” she said, picking the twigs out of Chip’s coat and smoothing down his ears. “You’d think he already won the trial!”

  “He might as well have done,” I said. “Look!”

  As the whistle blew, Speedy flew through the starting gate and