Watchdog by Laurien Berenson Page B

of bathing and brushing, of trying to learn to handle and teach Faith how to be a show dog at the same time, a year of coming close but never being quite good enough, I’d finally realized what all the fuss was about.
    It felt great to be a winner.
    â€œYou won two points,” said Peg. “You beat eight bitches. Now go get your ribbon before he decides to give it to somebody else.”
    That was all the urging I needed to find my way over to the marker. I accepted the purple ribbon for Winner Bitch with a goofy grin that made the judge smile, as well.
    â€œFirst show?” he asked kindly.
    â€œNo, but my first win.”
    â€œThat’s a pretty bitch. You’re going to do very well with her.”
    I made it out the gate, mostly because Sam came and got me. Davey was jumping up and down on his chair, and Tar had decided to add to the general excitement by lifting his nose to the ceiling and howling.
    â€œShe was great,” I babbled, wrapping my arms around Faith’s neck and crushing all her hair. “Wasn’t she great?”
    Sam gently pried my arms free. “She was, and so were you. But don’t mess her up too much, you both have to go back in.”
    Oh, Lordy, in all the excitement I’d forgotten about that. After Winners Dog and Winners Bitch have been chosen, the champions compete for Best of Breed, or in the case of Poodles, which have three varieties, Best of Variety. Since they are undefeated thus far on the day, the Winners Dog and Bitch are also eligible to compete.
    In the ring now, Reserve Winners Bitch was being judged. Sam plucked a long comb out of his back pocket, found a can of hair spray, and made hasty repairs to Faith’s neck hair. Thanks to his expertise, by the time the champions were called to enter the ring, she looked almost as good as new. We walked in and took our place at the end of the line.
    Ten minutes later Best of Variety was awarded to a beautiful black bitch shown by a professional handler named Crawford Langley. Best of Opposite Sex was the Winners Dog. Faith, who was enjoying her chance to show off, won Best of Winners. The steward picked up her walkie-talkie and placed a call for the photographer.
    One by one, each of the winners took a turn at having its picture taken with the judge. The top winning dogs used these win photos for advertising. Aunt Peg framed her most important wins and hung them on the kennel wall. I hadn’t yet decided what I’d do with my first picture, but I was sure I’d find a place to display it prominently.
    Back at the grooming area as we wrapped ears, took down topknots and spritzed a conditioner on the hair spray, I asked Sam and Aunt Peg if they had plans for dinner. Peg, who’d recently started seeing someone, did, but Sam was free.
    â€œNothing fancy,” I said, running through the contents of the cabinets in my mind. “Maybe spaghetti.”
    â€œSounds good to me.” Sam was easy. I like that in a man.
    After extracting a firm promise from me that I would wash the hair spray out of Faith’s coat before it was in long enough to do damage, Peg packed up and left. The rest of us soon followed. Three people, two Poodles, two cars. Someday I had to simplify my life.
    Davey elected to ride home with Sam and Tar. Sitting on the front seat beside me, Faith whined softly for much of the trip. Every so often she’d reach over and lay a paw on my arm, encouraging me to go back and get Davey, whom she seemed to think I’d forgotten.
    In Sam’s Blazer just ahead of us, Davey kept turning around to wave out the back window. I showed her where he was, but Faith couldn’t make the connection. Standard Poodles are so smart that it’s easy to take their superior reasoning ability for granted. Then they miss a trick, and you’re left wondering why.
    We pulled into the driveway just behind the Blazer. Faith saw Davey get out of Sam’s car and erupted into a