Kibble Talk by Cynthia Port

Author:Cynthia Port [Port, Cynthia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cynthia Port
Published: 2013-12-07T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15: My Trusty Seeing Eye Dog

Early Saturday morning I filled up our old kiddie pool with warm sudsy water and gave Dinky a bath so he'd be extra clean for the dog show. I guess some dogs hate baths, but Dinky can never get enough of the scrubbing.

“Poor Gunner,” Dinky said dreamily, closing his eyes. "He really should try this sometime.”

I stopped scrubbing. “Please don’t mention Gunner. It makes me think of Jenny and how she’ll never be my friend again,” I said, feeling suddenly empty and sad.

“Oh, sure she will,” Dinky said, lazily splashing a paw in the suds. “You just have to prove to her that you don’t want to eat kibble and paint your nails with that other girl anymore.”

“Dinky, you’re that other girl.”

“Oh, yeah. You’re screwed. A little higher and to the left, please?”

After the bath, we went up to my room to go over the list of things we needed to bring to the dog show. We had packed Dinky’s cape and tiara (in its box) into my backpack for me to carry. Dinky preferred to wear them, of course, but I didn’t want them to get damaged on the way there by a prancing Great Dane. I also had money for the bus, extra dog kibble, a few bucks for lunch, and the entrance ticket I’d gotten in the mail after signing up online.

Signing up had been surprisingly easy. I guess not too many people fake entering a dog show, because they didn’t ask for my age or ID or anything. All they wanted was my name, my dog’s name, breed and age, and the category we were competing in.

“Did the website say we needed to bring anything else?” Dinky asked when we had doubled checked our packing list.

“I think that’s it. Oh! Wait! There was one other thing. At these shows the dogs stay in crates while they wait their turn to compete.”

“Crates?” Dinky snapped. “I’ve never been in one of those prison cells and I never intend to.”

“They decorate them,” I said enticingly.

“Oooooh, you didn’t tell me that!” Dinky said, completely changing his tune at the mere mention of accessorizing. “But we don’t have a crate and we couldn’t carry it if we did.”

“I know, but they have a few they let dogs borrow and I signed you up for one.”

“What’s it gonna look like then? Huh? Huh?” Dinky asked, already panting over the crate he had detested moments before.

I shrugged. “Lets go see what we can find in my dress up bin."

It had been awhile since I’d looked in there, but we found a pink feather boa, a pink satin scarf, and a plastic silver crown.

“That’s good, that’s good, but it needs more, something unique, something transformational!” Dinky said.

Suddenly I knew exactly what to bring. I popped it in my bag and we were ready.

Dad and I had gone over the bus schedules together the night before. Bus 64 would put us right at the entrance to the convention center. It left every hour on the hour from a stop close to our house.

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