––––––––
“Anja!” the Breeder screamed.
Everyone rushed over to the collapsed Dane. Honey sniffed Anja’s face urgently. Her cousin was still breathing and her eyes were open, but her breaths were shallow and she didn’t respond to any of the frantic calling and patting from the humans. A faint smell lingered around her mouth and the bowl of half-eaten biscuits ... Honey furrowed her brow and sniffed again ... sweet and fruity ... and pink. Well, of course dogs can’t smell pink, but the smell reminded Honey of pink things she had sniffed before.
The Breeder rushed off and returned a few minutes later with a man carrying a metal case. It was the Vet. He dropped to his knees beside Anja and started examining her with gentle hands. Honey stepped back to give him more room and found several dogs crowding around her. They’d all come over to see what the commotion was.
“What happened?”
“Did you see?”
“Ohh ... is it the Phantom? Has the Phantom Hound struck again?”
“I knew something bad was going to happen after that howling!”
The Vet stood up, his face worried, and the humans huddled together to talk. Honey saw the Breeder’s shoulders slump in relief. Anja was going to be OK. Then she caught the word “poison” and saw the shocked look on their faces.
“Poison?” repeated Ruffster. “They think she’s been poisoned?”
“Those dog biscuits Anja was eating ...” Honey said slowly. “Someone must have put something in her bowl.”
“Reckon it’s that Ferrari mutt,” said Ruffster excitedly. “He was sniffin’ all round the chair and stuff ... and the bowl was on the chair. He could have been carryin’ somethin’ in his mouth—or hidden in that stupid snood o’ his—and slipped it in when nobody was lookin’. You heard him—he said he’d do anythin’ it takes to win and Anja was goin’ to be big competition.”
“I don’t know ...” Honey looked doubtfully over at the young Cocker Spaniel who was now lying on his pet futon, having a neck massage. He was a pain in the paw, all right, but would he really do something so ruthless?
And what about the other dogs in the show? Honey scanned the dogs around her, focusing on the two Afghans who were standing at the edge of the crowd, peering over the top of the other dogs’ heads. What about Dior? Honey thought of the way the big Afghan Hound had strode arrogantly into the arena. Tiffany had said he was the reigning champion of the Royal Show ... after winning it for two years, would he give up his “Best in Show” trophy without a fight? Their crates were only a few feet away ... With the bowl sitting there on the chair, it would have been easy enough for him—or anybody passing by—to slip something in.
As if echoing her thoughts, Honey heard the Vet ask the Breeder if she had seen anybody suspicious hanging around nearby recently.
“Oh gosh, I don’t remember! Let me see ... I was talking to one of the stewards and then Marie stopped by with her poodle for a chat. She’s a good friend of mine—came over from France with her star poodle, Colette, especially for this show. And then Olivia arrived with her friend and their dogs.” The Breeder shook her head. “But there were lots of other people passing by, to tell you the truth, and I wasn’t paying that much attention to them. I suppose any of them could have put something in the bowl.”
Honey glanced at Ruffster. The insides of his ears had gone really pink again at the mention of Colette’s name.
“It’s not Colette!” he growled indignantly. “She wouldn’t do anythin’ like that!”
“We don’t know her that well,” reminded Honey. “Maybe she—”
“No!” he snapped.
“Ruffster, just because you like her—”
“I don’t like her!” He shuffled his paws, his ears turning pinker still. “I just ... er ... I just know she wouldn’t do somethin’ like that, OK?” He jutted his jaw out. “I still think it’s that Ferrari. I mean, he—”
“Shh!” said Honey suddenly, pricking her ears and looking at the humans. “I think they’re talking about me!”
They had helped Anja to stand up and settled her back in her crate. Her eyes were flickering now and she seemed to be breathing more normally. The humans were standing around her crate, talking in serious voices. Honey saw them glance in her direction several times and felt uneasy. What was going on?
“Honey! Come here.”
Honey went obediently over and stood nervously as the Breeder ran her hands expertly over her body. What was going on?
The Breeder turned to Olivia and said, “She’s in great condition. Needs a bit of grooming and tidying up, of course, but that should be easy. I was watching her stack earlier and she’s got great potential. Look, you said yourself that she and Anja could be doppelgängers—they’re so alike! If I take Honey into the ring, I’ll still be able to have a dog in this show.”
What? Me in the show ring? Honey stared at the humans, horrified. No!
“Ooh ...” Olivia laughed, her eyes excited. “You think Honey could do it? How flattering! I never thought I’d have a show dog! But can you swap her in at the last minute like that?”
“Not usually,” admitted the Breeder. “The entries are usually closed by now. But the show secretary is an old friend. I think she might bend the rules for me a bit—especially when she hears what happened. I’ll have to speak to her, but I think we can swing it.” She turned and hurried off.
Honey started to whine in protest. She couldn’t do this! She wasn’t a show dog!
“Hey, your dappy-goo-goo is callin’ you,” said Ruffster.
Honey looked over at Anja. Her cousin was lying in her crate, with her head up, looking much better, although her eyes were still a bit glazed and she was panting slightly. Honey went over and touched noses with her.
“Are you OK? You gave us such a scare!”
“I’ll be fine,” said Anja, moving restlessly. “But Honey, the show ... you’ve got to go into the ring for me.”
“I can’t!” Honey paced in front of the crate. “You know I’m not a show dog! I’ll just totally mess it up.”
“No, you won’t. You were great earlier when we were stacking. You just need a bit of practice, that’s all.” Anja looked up at her. “It’s really important that our kennel is represented in this show. It’s too late now for the Breeder to drive back home and get one of the other Danes. You’re our only hope. I know you can do it. Please?”
Honey sighed. She looked over to see the Breeder hurrying back, waving a form in her hand, a big smile on her face. “Looks like I don’t have much choice.”
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The next four hours passed in a blur. GREAT DANES were on straight after lunch so it was a race to get ready in time. Since Olivia’s idea of “regular grooming” was once a month—if she remembered—Honey stood in embarrassment as the Breeder combed out enough dead hair from her coat to make a small Yorkshire Terrier. Next came the nail clipping and Honey squirmed as the Breeder tried to pick up her paws.
“Ooh! Tickles! Tickles!” she squealed.
“Never knew you were such a baby about groomin’,” laughed Ruffster, as he sat nearby watching.
“I just don’t like people touching my paws,” grumbled Honey.
“You’ve got to learn to hold still, Honey,” said Suka, who was at a bench a few feet away, being groomed by her Boy. “The judge is going to be touching you all over and whatever you do, you mustn’t squirm!”
Honey gritted her teeth as the Breeder picked up her right back foot. “OK, OK ...”
Finally the makeover was done. Honey had never felt so brushed and clipped and trimmed and smoothed in her whole life. A thin lead was slipped over her neck, tightened high behind her ears, and then Honey practised walking up and down next to her Breeder.
“That’s it! Trot! Trot! Lift your paws up high!” called Anja from her crate as she watched. “Don’t forget to raise your chin and keep your head up ... arch your neck ... prick your ears ... keep trotting, don’t stop! Step gracefully, don’t drop your head—”
“I’m never going to remember all that at the same time!” wailed Honey, coming to a halt and panting, drool dripping off her tongue and onto the floor.
“Howling Hyenas, Honey, you can’t slobber like that!” cried Suka, her blue eyes wide. “That will totally ruin your chances! Whatever you do, you’ve got to keep your mouth dry!”
Honey gulped. The Breeder shook her head and grabbed a towel to wipe Honey’s mouth.
A bell sounded. They were being called.
“Good luck, mate,” said Ruffster, touching his nose to her shoulder.
“Yeah, good luck, Honey,” said Suka, waving her fluffy tail.
“Remember, think majestic!” called Anja from her crate.
Olivia crouched down next to Honey and gave her a hug. “Make me proud, Honey girl.”
Honey gulped again. She followed the Breeder out towards the centre of the arena. Spotlights had come on and were now circling the show rings. A row of Great Danes stood ready to go into the main ring, their coats gleaming, their eyes bright with anticipation. Honey took the last place in line, behind a dainty Dane with a beautiful, smoky blue coat who turned her head and peered at Honey curiously.
“Anja?”
“No, I’m Anja’s cousin,” said Honey shyly. “I’m ... I’m sort of standing in for her today.”
“Wow, you look exactly like her,” said the blue Dane. “First time?”
Honey nodded nervously.
“Don’t worry,” said the blue Dane with a flick of her tail. “It’s easy. Remember, we’re Danes. Majestic is our middle name.”
Great, thought Honey. But what happens when slobbery is your middle name? A man’s voice called out and then the Danes in front of her began moving forwards.
This is it. Show time.
Honey took a deep breath and stepped into the ring.