CHAPTER 10

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Honey groaned as she dragged herself out of the caravan the next morning. She was definitely not a morning dog. Most days, she liked to go back for a long nap to recover from the effort of eating breakfast. Besides, no self-respecting Great Dane would settle for less than eighteen hours of sleep a day and she was already tired from the full day yesterday—all that running around meant that she had barely had a chance for a snooze.

Olivia gave the leash a little tug. “Come on, Honey. We’ve got to get you looking good for the show today. Your breeder will be waiting for us at the grooming area.”

Honey sighed and followed Olivia towards the arena. It was still very early and there were few other people or dogs about when they stepped in. As they walked past the show rings, Honey noticed a woman standing by the wall with the framed photos of past winners. The woman was looking up at the picture of the last winner—the picture of Graf the Hungarian Puli—and her shoulders were shaking spasmodically.

She’s crying, Honey realised. Olivia noticed her too and paused, frowning. She walked towards the woman and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, asking if she was all right. The woman gave a start and turned, stuffing something hurriedly into her pocket. In her haste, her hands missed and Honey saw a piece of paper flutter down to land on the floor a few feet away.

Olivia took some tissues out of her own pocket and offered them to the woman, patting her soothingly on the back. They turned away, speaking in low voices. Honey glanced back at the piece of paper on the floor, then walked curiously towards it. Luckily her leash was long enough for her to get close enough for a good look.

It turned out that it wasn’t a piece of paper—it was a photograph. A photograph of a dog. Honey stared at it. It was a medium-sized white dog with long dreadlocks covering his face and body—almost identical to Graf in the picture above—except that this dog had one grey ear. Honey tilted her head in puzzlement. Who was he?

A voice calling her name made her turn around. The woman was walking off and Olivia was heading once more towards the grooming area. Honey gave the photograph a last look, then quickly followed Olivia. When they arrived at the grooming area, they found Suka already there, being groomed by her Boy. On another grooming table nearby, Honey spied Colette the French Poodle with her human, Marie, fussing over her white curls. And beside them, Honey was delighted to see Anja being brushed by the Breeder.

“You’re feeling better?” she asked her cousin as she and Olivia went up to join them.

“Yes, thanks,” said Anja, giving her an affectionate sniff.

“Oh, then maybe you can go in the ring today!” Honey said eagerly.

“No, Honey, it doesn’t work like that,” said Anja. “You won yesterday so you have to be the one competing again today. I can’t just swap back in.”

“But ... you’re so much better than me.” Honey ducked her head. “I don’t think I can do it again, Anja. Yesterday was just luck.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Anja. “You did great yesterday. All the other dogs were talking about it. I’m sure you’ll be fantastic again today. In fact, I think you have a good chance of winning ‘Best in Show’.”

“Really?” Honey looked up in delight. For a moment, she remembered Colette’s words from the night before. The vision of herself standing next to the silver trophy cup rose up again in her mind’s eye. Suddenly, Honey really wanted to win that cup. She raised her chin and looked at Anja. “I’ll do my best.”

Maybe getting up early was a good idea after all, thought Honey as the Breeder beckoned her over. Need to make sure I have enough time to get primped and polished for the show. The Breeder led her to the empty space beside Colette’s table, where the French Poodle was having some white powder dusted onto her coat.

“What’s that for?” asked Honey.

“It is chalk,” explained Colette. “It helps to make my coat look more white.”

“But ... isn’t that cheating?” Honey frowned.

Colette shrugged. “Everybody does it at shows. It is not really cheating. I do not hide my real colour—I am white. It is just something to—how you say?—enhance it.” She looked at Honey earnestly. “It is très difficile, very tough, to win in the show ring. You have to use everything you can to look your best, do everything you can to win.”

Honey pondered this as the Breeder carefully brushed her own coat. If Colette thought it was OK to cheat a little in order to win—did it mean that she thought it was also OK to hurt another dog to stop them from winning? She watched as the French Poodle finally jumped off her grooming table and wagged her pom-pom tail at Honey before trotting off with Marie. Honey just couldn’t believe that Colette would do anything to hurt another dog.

But then, I can’t really believe that of any dog here, she thought, looking around. Maybe the other dogs were right after all and it was the Phantom Hound behind these attacks?

“Hey,” Suka came up next to her, startling Honey out of her thoughts. The Husky had been brushed into full fluffy glory again. Honey had to move slightly to make room for Suka’s tail.

“Biscuit’s gone off to check that fake Peemail,” Suka said in a low voice.

Honey perked up. “That’s great! How did he manage to sneak off?”

Suka grinned. “There was some big problem over by the Beagle ring and his Missus had to rush off to sort it out. My Boy’s Mother went to help as well. So they left Biscuit with my Boy to look after ...” Suka’s blue eyes twinkled mischievously. “Well, you know ten-year-old human boys aren’t always the best at keeping an eye on dogs, especially if they’re easily distracted ... Watch this!” She turned and jumped up on her Boy, putting her paws on his chest and licking him in the face enthusiastically. He squealed and laughed, scrunching up his eyes and trying to push her off. Suka dropped back down on all fours and grinned at Honey again. “See? Works every time. And Biscuit will be back before my Boy even notices that he’s missing.” She looked beyond Honey. “Oh look—there he is!”

Honey turned to look. The Beagle was walking past them in the main throng of the arena, with his nose to the ground, his brow furrowed in concentration. They watched as he weaved between people and dogs and disappeared from sight. More dogs and humans were coming into the arena now and the grooming area was starting to fill up. Honey gave her space to a Golden Retriever, pleased that her turn was over.

Ruffster arrived at last, looking bleary-eyed and with serious bed-fur sticking up madly in tufts all over his body. Honey guessed she wasn’t the only one who had a tough time with early mornings. His Guy handed him over to Olivia and rushed off.

“Gone to fix some light problem by the show rings,” explained Ruffster, stretching and giving himself a lazy scratch. “Hey—saw Biscuit on the way here; didn’t even notice me sayin’ hello. Walked right past me with his nose on the ground and those crazy googly eyes he gets when he’s trackin’ somethin’. What’s he up to?”

“He’s probably tracking a scent from the fake Peemail,” said Honey. “I’m sure it was one of the dogs who was near the crate area yesterday. And I’m sure they would have been wet from the rain as well, because they would have been outside waiting by the Viking ship for me.” She hesitated, glancing at him sideways. “You know, I saw Colette nearby and her coat was wet.”

Ruffster stiffened. “What are you sayin’, mate?”

“Well ... she’s come all the way from France for this show. I’m sure she wants to win. Maybe she—”

“No way! Colette wouldn’t do anythin’ like that,” growled Ruffster.

“But we don’t really know her,” said Honey. “She would have a very good reason to—”

“No!” snarled Ruffster. “I know Colette! She would never do anythin’ to hurt anyone. It ... it must be one of the other dogs. Like what about Dior? That stuck-up Afghan—I’m sure he’s up to no good. Wasn’t he nearby as well?”

“Well, yes, he was,” Honey admitted. “But his coat wasn’t wet.”

“Well, maybe his human dried him off or somethin’. What about Ferrari, then? Cocky young mutt ... you heard him, he was braggin’ to everyone about doin’ anythin’ it takes to win. His crate is right next to Anja’s. It would have been really easy for him to sneak over and leave a fake Peemail.”

“But I didn’t see him—” said Honey.

“So what? Just because you didn’t see him doesn’t mean he wasn’t sneakin’ around!”

Honey took a step back. She had never seen her friend so angry. “Ruffster, calm down—”

“I am calm! I just don’t think you should go around sayin’ such things about Colette.”

“But, Ruffster, it could have been her. I know you like her, but—”

The insides of Ruffster’s ears went bright pink. “It’s ... it’s got nothin’ to do with whether I like her or not!”

“Ruffster, she was here just now and she told me that she thinks you have to do everything you can to win,” Honey said softly. “She even thought it was OK to cheat a little to win—her human was putting chalk on her coat to make it look whiter and she said everybody did that sort of thing.”

“Well, she’s right. If everybody’s doin’ it, why shouldn’t she do it too?” demanded Ruffster. “Anyway, that’s ... that’s different from doin’ stuff to hurt other dogs.”

“Yes, but where does it end? If she thinks it’s OK to do that, how do you know she wouldn’t—”

NO.” Ruffster faced her, his eyes hard, his teeth bared. “Don’t you dare say things like that about Colette!”

“Ruffster ...” Honey was taken aback. In all their years as friends, Honey had never heard Ruffster take that tone with her or look at her like that.

“You always think you know everythin’,” Ruffster snarled. “Well, you’re wrong! Reckon it’s Dior—he’ll do anythin’ to keep the trophy another year—or that loudmouth, Ferrari. I know it’s one of those two and I’m goin’ to prove it!” He whirled and stormed away.