Jingle Bell Bark by Laurien Berenson

Author:Laurien Berenson [Berenson, Laurien]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense
ISBN: 9781575667867
Publisher: Kensington
Published: 2004-01-01T05:00:00+00:00

17

Dogs always show before bitches. For some reason, which I have yet to figure out, they also always wear odd-numbered armbands, while bitches are assigned even numbers. Aunt Peg, with Zeke, would be the first of us to go in the ring. She stood near the gate as the Standard Poodle judging started with the Puppy Dog class.

Summoned by the steward, four rambunctious puppies filed into the ring. Two were black, two were white; none, thankfully, looked mature enough to give Zeke a run for his money. Nevertheless, I was delighted to see them. Their numbers, added to those in the other classes, supplied the total that had come up a major.

Aunt Peg had Zeke entered in the Open class. Usually she shows in Bred by Exhibitor; however, since I was Zeke’s breeder Peg was ineligible for her favorite class. Instead she would face four other opponents all presented by professional handlers in Open.

As Peg entered the ring, Sam and Tar came to stand beside me.

“He looks good,” Sam said in a low voice. At ringside, everybody listens in. Those who don’t want the whole world to know what they’re thinking whisper compliments and insults alike.

“I just told Aunt Peg that. She thought I was jinxing her.”

“You probably were. That’s how superstitions work. If you believe, you’re done for.”

We both watched as Val made her first pass down the line of four. First impressions count for a lot in dog shows. The judge has only a very limited amount of time, usually less than two minutes, to devote to assessing each dog.

Savvy handlers try to grab the judge’s attention right away. The really talented ones never relinquish it.

“Good,” Sam said as Val paused for a second look at Zeke. “She knows he’s there.”

The judge lifted her hands and sent the entry around the matted ring. Called in catalog order, Zeke was leading the parade. Trotting smoothly, Aunt Peg raised her hand, let out her leash, and hung back ever so slightly. Zeke, striding out in front of her, looked as though he was showing himself and towing her along behind as an afterthought.

A subtle point, well made. Aunt Peg’s actions indicated her feelings to the judge: this dog has so much presence and ability, he can do it all by himself. Val, a former handler herself, was well able to appreciate the effort. Nor would the effect be lost on her.

“That’s it,” Sam whispered when the Poodles had completed a circuit of the ring. “He’s got it.”

I reached over and punched him in the arm. “Not so fast. At least give the judge a chance to put her hands on him before you go ahead and make up her mind for her.”

Sam shut up then, but it didn’t matter. He was right, just as I’d hoped he would be. When the judge had completed her individual examinations of all four entries, she left Zeke standing at the head of the line and shuffled only those behind him. A minute later, Val Homberg handed Aunt Peg the narrow strip of blue ribbon.

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