Chow Down by Laurien Berenson

whether whoever had named the room where we were heading knew that Cerberus—the most famous canine in Greek mythology—was actually a three-headed canine that guarded the gates of hell. Or maybe I was just still being paranoid.
    Though we’d come a little early, when Faith and I reached the Cerberus Room I saw that we weren’t the first to arrive. It looked as though most of the other finalists were hoping to make a good impression by appearing eager. A quick look around the room revealed that Ben and his Boxer, Brando, were the only ones missing. Having browsed the web site the night before, I was able to recognize the rest of the competitors.
    Lisa and Larry Kim were an Asian couple in their thirties, both slender and meticulously groomed. Though the other dogs in the room stood beside their owners on leashes, Larry held Yoda the Yorkie in his arms. The Kims weren’t mingling; instead they stood off to one side, reserved and unsmiling. Lisa looked unsure of herself; Larry merely appeared impatient for the proceedings to begin.
    I’d never met Dorothy Foyle, though I’d seen her at plenty of shows with MacDuff. She was every bit as durable a campaigner as the black Scottish Terrier that sat on the floor pressed up against her sensible, low-heeled pumps. In her fifties, Dorothy had been a part of the dog show world nearly as long as Aunt Peg. Her sturdy figure and relentlessly cheery demeanor masked a steely sense of resolve that had served the pair well in the show ring.
    Bill and Allison Redding, owners of Ginger the triple-threat Brittany, were another young couple. Bill was formally dressed in a suit and tie, and looked as though he might have dashed over to the meet-and-greet from work. He met my gaze and offered a quick smile in return. Allison, kneeling on the floor beside Ginger, was oblivious to the rest of the room. She spoke to the orange and white Brittany in a low voice, her arm lifting and falling in a nervous rhythm as her hand stroked repeatedly from the dog’s head to her short tail.
    Faith and I had barely stepped inside the room before a man detached himself from a small group standing beside the door.
    â€œDoug Allen, contest chair,” he said. “You must be Melanie and Faith. Welcome! We’re so glad you could join us.”
    Doug took my hand in his and pulled me forward. “Let me introduce to you to the rest of our committee. These are the people you have to worry about impressing over the next few weeks. They’re the ones whose opinions have the power to make your dog a star or send you packing.”
    Doug sounded like the host of a TV reality show and the broad wink he trained in my direction did nothing to diminish the self-importance of his tone. He ushered me to the edge of the group by the door and pointed quickly from one committee member to the next. “Cindy Burrows, Chris Hovick, Simone Dorsey.”
    I started to say hello but quickly realized that none of the three judges was paying even the slightest attention to me. Instead they were all staring with avid curiosity at Faith. Displaying that her manners were better than theirs, the Poodle ignored their scrutiny and stood quietly by my side.
    â€œBeautiful,” Simone Dorsey said. Everything about the woman was polished: from her shoes, to her nails, to her shiny lips. “What a classy-looking dog.”
    Chris, bespectacled, balding, and as rumpled as Simone was sleek, shook his head. “She’s too composed. That won’t play well on television.”
    â€œMaybe she can animate?” Cindy asked. The youngest of the trio, she was also the first to reach out and give Faith a tentative pat. “You know, like on command?” She lifted her eyes to me. “She does tricks, doesn’t she?”
    â€œA few,” I said. “I really haven’t spent any time on that. But Faith’s a fast learner. She’s always been able to pick up anything I want