The Incredible Shrinking Girl Definitely Needs a Dog

by Lou Kuenzler

  “Sorry, Vi,” he muttered again. It was as if had stolen the real Uncle Max. They had taken and swapped him for Soppy Max The Blue Suit Man.

  “Sit down, Maxi darling,” said Bunny firmly. “Try the Mixed Grain Platter. That was always Tarquin’s favourite…”

  In the next three weeks I seemed to spend in the wedding shop being fitted and measured for the dress. Bunny wanted me and Fifi-Belle to practise a special bridesmaid walk, too. But I still went to as often as I could.

  Sometimes Nisha came with me, but she was busy with cousins who were visiting from London, so most of the time I went on my own. I helped out with all the dogs and the cats. Even Mum was impressed with how hard I was working.

  When I was finished with my chores, I always saved time to play with Chip and practise for the Agility Trial.

  Yana helped me to set up a little course in the orchard.

  There was a short tunnel for Chip to run along, weaving poles to swerve in and out of, a little fence to jump over, a hanging tyre to leap through and a see-saw to run up and down. There was also a square painted on the ground where the dogs were supposed to and sit for three seconds. This was called the Pause Box. Yana explained that it was my job to run along beside Chip – with no lead, of course – and encourage him through each of these obstacles.

  “It is only a fun agility contest at our show,” she said. “Not strict rules. But Lady Valance, the judge, is a very well-known dog-training person. She has trained dogs for kings and queens and presidents.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, trying not to sound nervous. “Chip and I will make you proud.”

  “Good.” Yana smiled and stroked Chip’s ears. “I am looking forward to this dog show. It will be my last one.”

  “Why?” I gasped. I had grown to really like Yana. Even though she looked with her green hair and pins in her clothes, she was so gentle and kind with the dogs.

  “I am leaving to go back to Russia,” she explained. “I have a wonderful chance to work with Siberian wolves in the wild.”

  “Wow!” I said. “That sounds . Perhaps you’ll meet the wolf cub I adopted. He’s called Boris.”

  “I’ll have to look out for him,” Yana laughed.

  “But we’ll miss you here,” I said. “Chip will miss you most of all.”

  “Oh, that is kind,” she said, scratching him on the belly as he rolled over to be tickled. “You will have to win the Agility Trial for me before I go.”

  “We’ll try our very best,” I promised.

  The trouble was, our very best wasn’t very good.

  Chip loved running through the tunnel and sometimes went through three or four times in a row. He went under the see-saw more often than he went over it. His legs were so short the jump and tyre had to be really low to the ground. And, no matter how hard I tried, he would sit and wait in the Pause Box.

  “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 D
OG 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 scrubbed 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.