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Long, eerie, mournful howls seemed to come from nowhere and echoed around the arena, bouncing off the walls. Next to Honey, dogs began to whimper and nervous whispers swelled around her:
“It’s happening again, just like yesterday!”
“Oh, I’m scared ...”
“They say this place is haunted ...”
“It’s the Phantom Hound coming to get us!”
Frightened yelps and screams filled the arena, but just as Honey thought that there would be a mass stampede of panic, she heard a dog barking cheerfully over the din.
“Hey, don’t worry, mates—my Guy’s lookin’ into the problem now and he’ll have it all fixed in no time!”
“Ruffster!” Honey turned in delight at the familiar voice of one of her oldest friends. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark now and she could see more clearly. Ruffster the mongrel mutt trotted jauntily into the middle of the arena, his scruffy coat looking messier than ever and his one upright ear cocked. Just as he reached the show rings, the lights came back on. Everyone looked around, blinking, and then everyone began talking at once.
“Hey, Honey ... wasn’t expectin’ to see you here.” Ruffster came up and they circled each other, sniffing bums with affection.
“My human’s come to take photos of the show. What about you?” asked Honey.
“My Guy’s doin’ all the lights and sounds and stuff. We’ve been here since yesterday.”
Honey’s ears pricked up. “Were you here when the same thing happened yesterday? The lights and that strange howling? Everyone thinks the Showgrounds are haunted.”
“I heard that too,” said Suka, coming up to join them. She gave herself a good shake. “Am I glad to get out of that show ring!”
Ruffster stared at her. “Mate, what happened to your tail? Looks like a giant marshmallow exploded on your bum!”
“Ha-ha, very funny.” Suka wrinkled her muzzle. She turned to Honey. “The other Huskies were talking about a Phantom Hound ... do you think the Showgrounds are really haunted?”
Ruffster snorted. “Ain’t no Phantom Hound. My Guy says the lights just went out because o’ a fuse.”
“A few what?”
“Not few. Fuse,” said Ruffster. “They’re like little wires that melt when the lights get too hot. Makes them go out. Helps to keep things safe. And then you—”
“Excusez-moi?”
They turned to see a beautiful French Poodle standing next to them, one paw raised daintily. She was the colour of fresh snow, with sparkling black eyes and a charcoal nose to match. Her woolly coat had been carefully shaved into the traditional “Continental clip”, with the hair removed from her hips and upper legs, but left around her head and chest. She had big round pom-poms on each of her ankles and on the tip of her tail.
The French Poodle fluttered her long eyelashes at them. “My name is Colette. It is fixed now, the lights?”
Honey turned to Ruffster, waiting for him to start explaining again about the fuse, but he was just standing there, looking at the French Poodle with his mouth slightly open.
Suka gave him a nudge. “Ruffster?”
He blinked. “Uh ... fuse ... Guy ... hot ...” He made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a giggle.
Honey looked at him sharply. Dogs don’t blush, but she was almost sure that the insides of Ruffster’s ears had turned pink.
“I am sorry?” said Colette, looking puzzled.
“He means the lights are fine now,” said Honey.
“Oh, merci. That is good. I was worried that it was something more, vous comprenez?”
“Something more?” asked Honey.
Colette glanced around. “There is a lot of talking about a fantôme who comes and brings misfortune. Bad things—they happen after you hear the howling.”
Suka pushed her way forwards, her blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “Is there really a Phantom Hound?”
Colette shrugged. “Je ne sais pas. I do not know. My human and I—we have come from France for the show—and there are many things about this country that we do not understand. It is perhaps—how you say—just a légende? But there are many dogs here who believe and they are scared. Yesterday, a dog had a bad accident after the howling was heard. This time, who knows what is going to happen ...” She shuddered and looked around again.
Honey followed her gaze around the arena. Everything seemed normal again, the air filled with the hustle and bustle of the show. In the distance, she spotted Biscuit the Beagle squirming out from under another of the food stalls, a sandwich clamped between his jaws. A red-faced woman was leaning over the stall and yelling something after him, but Biscuit didn’t look back as he raced across the room with his prize.
Honey turned back to Colette. “Nothing’s happened so far. I think it’s just a silly story.”
“Alors, but where is the howling coming from then? It is not from any of the dogs here—it is coming from outside the arena.” Colette shivered. “What is it from?”
Honey couldn’t answer. She looked at Ruffster, surprised that he hadn’t added his opinion—he was usually the one talking all the time—but he was still staring at Colette. There was a bit of drool coming out of the side of his mouth now.
“I saw you practising earlier,” said Suka to Colette. “You looked fantastic. My Boy’s been trying to teach me to trot like that all week.”
The French Poodle gave a shy wag of her tail. “Oh, merci beaucoup. Thank you very much. I have been practising since the time I was a puppy. My family, they are all show dogs.” She raised her chin proudly. “We have les champions in my pedigree since the time of King Louis XVII.”
“Wow,” said Suka. “I bet you’ll win ‘Best in Show’.”
“Oh, I hope so,” said Colette eagerly. “My human, she has worked very hard to bring me over here for this show. I do not want to disappoint her. Eh bien, I must return to my bench.” She gave them all a shy smile. “It is mon anniversaire, my birthday, today. My human, Marie, is making a little party this evening to celebrate. Perhaps you will come?” She looked at Ruffster and wagged her pom-pom tail.
He mumbled something and stared at his front paws. Colette tilted her head, looking at him uncertainly.
“That sounds lovely,” said Honey hastily. “Thank you.”
The French Poodle gave another wag of her pom-pom tail and trotted away.
“Ruffster, for kibble’s sake, what’s got into you?” Honey looked at her friend who was still standing frozen, his eyes following the French Poodle.
“Yeah, Ruffster, why didn’t you say something?” asked Suka. She flicked her tail teasingly. “I think she likes you.”
Ruffster hung his head. “I’m just a mongrel mutt. Don’t even have no pedigree name. She’d never talk to the likes o’ me.”
“Don’t be daft,” said Honey. But even as she said that, she noticed for the first time that the dogs around them were eyeing Ruffster askance. He did stand out here in the arena with his scruffy coat and his mismatched ears, next to all the elegant, groomed purebreds around them.
A Borzoi walked past and sniffed disapprovingly when she saw Ruffster. “Really! What were they thinking? Letting a mongrel in here. This used to be a respectable show and now we have to put up with all this riff-raff. ‘Prettiest Pet’ indeed! Have you ever heard of such nonsense?” She curled her lips back as she eyed Ruffster’s crooked ear. “This one wouldn’t even qualify in that class.”
Ruffster drooped even more.
Honey growled at the Borzoi, then turned back to Ruffster. “Don’t listen to that stupid dog,” she said. “You’re just as good as any of them.”
“Maybe you could go over to the grooming area and get your coat fixed up,” suggested Suka.
“Suka!” Honey huffed in exasperation. “Ruffster doesn’t need any fixing up. He’s great just as he is.”
“Oh, yeah—yeah, right,” said Suka hastily. She looked towards the show rings. “I’d better get back to my Boy. I’ll see you pups later.”
Suka had barely left when Honey heard her name being called. She looked up to see Olivia hurrying towards her, with Ruffster’s Guy close behind her.
“Honey! Ruffster! We’ve been looking for you everywhere!” Olivia rushed up to them. She turned to Ruffster’s Guy and said, “Give me a minute, I’ll just leave Honey with her breeder and then I’ll come out to move the car. That’s so great that we can park next to your caravan—I was really thinking I would have to risk getting towed!”
Ruffster’s Guy reached out and patted Honey on the head. “No worries. We’ll come with you to the breeder.”
The crowd seemed even thicker now as they pushed their way to the other side of the arena. There along the wall, several large crates were set up in a row. This was obviously where many of the bigger breeds hung out. Honey saw a flash of silver hair from the corner of her eye and turned her head to see Tiffany and Dior the Afghan Hounds nearby. Dior was being groomed by the Afghan Lady, the tall woman with the long face, and Tiffany was hovering behind them, looking bored. She perked up when she saw Honey and wagged her tail.
“Honey! My, how you’ve grown!” said a familiar voice.
Honey felt hands running over her and smelled an old scent she recognised. Memories of sleeping in a pile with her brothers and sisters and snuggling next to her mother’s belly flooded through her. It was the same hand that had touched her then, picked her up, cradled her and patted her. My Breeder!
Honey squirmed happily and leaned into the body next to her. The Breeder laughed. “So you remember me, do you? Come on, let me introduce you to your cousin, Anja. She’s a year younger than you and a Champion already! She’s our big hope for winning ‘Best in Show’ this year.” She opened the door of a giant crate nearby and a Great Dane walked out.
Honey stared.
It was like looking into a mirror. From the dark mask across the eyes and the mole on the right side of her jowls, to the long legs and the patch of white on her chest—this other Dane looked exactly like her.
“Oh my goodness!” gasped Olivia, laughing. “Honey, you’ve got a doppelgänger!”