––––––––
Honey crashed to a halt as the fence loomed up in front of her. Beyond it, she could see the Phantom Hound still moving away in the distance, growing smaller and smaller. Any minute now, she would lose sight of him in the mist. Panting and drooling, she jumped up with her paws on the top bar of the fence, whining with frustration. Behind her, she could hear shouting and the sound of Ruffster barking, but she ignored it. She had to find a way to get over the fence.
Dropping to all fours, Honey paced in front of the fence. She couldn’t go under—she remembered how she had nearly got stuck last night—even with the widened gap, it would take too long. But how about going over?
Honey backed up several steps and looked at the fence. It was high—she wasn’t sure she could clear it—but if she took a running jump, she might be able to get at least halfway across and then she could scramble the rest of the way over. She backed up some more and took a deep breath.
Then she felt a hand grab her collar.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” said Olivia next to her. “You’re going nowhere, young lady.”
Honey whined and tugged on her collar, but Olivia held firm. Honey looked desperately back at the field. The Phantom Hound was gone. She couldn’t see him anywhere. Her ears and tail fell. She’d lost her chance.
“Come on,” said Olivia, hauling Honey with her back towards the caravan. “If you’re so keen for some exercise, we’ll go for a walk. But on leash!”
Ten minutes later, they were setting off from the caravan again, this time with Honey firmly secured on her leash. She turned immediately towards the field and tried to pull in that direction. Olivia took no notice, though, but turned in the opposite direction and marched off towards the front of the arena. Honey had no choice but to follow.
A weak sun was beginning to show through the clouds now and the mist was slowly fading. The grass was still wet with dew though—something Honey hadn’t noticed earlier when she was racing to get into the field—and she picked her way fastidiously across the caravan parking area, making sure to avoid any puddles. Since it was so early, there was still very little activity around. As they approached the front door of the arena, however, they saw a few other early risers out for their morning walks. Honey pricked her ears as she spied a human and dog coming towards them. It was Tiffany and the Afghan Lady. The humans smiled and greeted each other, and they all fell into step together as they continued their way around the arena.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” said Tiffany, giving Honey a sidelong look.
Honey looked at her in surprise. “Why are you sorry?”
“My brother, Dior.” Tiffany looked embarrassed. “I heard what he said to you—you know, when your mongrel friend was being ... um ... blamed by the other dogs.”
Honey laughed. “Don’t worry. I didn’t take it to heart. Anyway, he’s probably right. Showing should be left to the professionals. I don’t think I have the right attitude for it ... you know, doing whatever it takes to win.”
Tiffany looked at her in surprise. “Don’t you want to be a winner?”
“Well, I do, I guess ...” said Honey slowly. “And I was really disappointed when I didn’t get through the second show. But you know what? I’ve decided that there are other ways of being a winner than just getting a red ribbon in the show ring.”
“You’re just saying that because you’ve won once already,” said Tiffany bitterly. “You don’t know what it’s like to never win anything, ever.”
Honey looked at her, unsure what to say.
Tiffany gave herself a shake and changed the subject. “Have you heard the gossip? Everyone’s saying that Graf’s owner has come back! It’s the first time anyone has seen her in ten years. I heard my human talking about it with some of the other breeders last night. No one can believe she’s come back to watch the show.”
“I ... I think I might have seen her,” said Honey. “I saw a woman standing under Graf’s portrait in the arena yesterday morning. She was crying.”
“Yes, that was probably her,” said Tiffany wryly. “All the dogs say she’s just been walking around, crying a lot. You know they never found Graf’s body after the fire ... maybe that’s why she’s still so sad. Humans have a tough time saying goodbye.”
“She was carrying a picture of him when I saw her,” Honey remembered.
“A picture?” Tiffany cocked her head. “You mean, like the one of him on the wall?”
“No, this one was a bit different. It wasn’t an official show pose. He was just standing in a garden with his tail wagging and one of his ears—the grey one—cocked. A bit like my friend, Ruffster.”
“Grey ear?” Tiffany looked puzzled. “No, you must have been mistaken. That can’t have been Graf. Graf was pure white. That was one of the reasons he won—his beautiful, pure-white coat.”
“Oh.” Honey hesitated. “She seemed so sad ... I thought it had to be him. Do you think it was another Puli she had owned?”
“I don’t know,” Tiffany said doubtfully. “I think Graf was her first dog—and I heard my human say she retired from showing after that and hasn’t owned another dog since.”
They were heading back to the caravans now and paused beside one of the first vehicles parked in the row: a station wagon with a big blue tent erected next to it.
“This is us,” said Tiffany. “I can see Dior’s waiting for us. He must be starving for breakfast.”
Honey saw the big Afghan lying regally just inside the raised flaps of the blue tent. Then she noticed a yellow car with a sloping roof parked in the next space. She remembered that car from the party. It was Marie and Colette’s. There was no sign of the French Poodle and her human, although their blue tent had its flaps firmly closed. It was early yet and perhaps they were sleeping in.
Honey turned to Tiffany. “Do you know Colette well?”
“Colette the French Poodle?” Tiffany grinned. “My brother really likes her. Actually, I think half the boy dogs at the show really like her. If she wins her group today, she’ll be a strong contender for ‘Best in Show’ tomorrow.”
As long as something bad doesn’t happen to her, thought Honey. But then, if Colette was the one behind these attacks, she wouldn’t have anything to worry about. Honey thought of Colette’s furtive behaviour. Then she thought of the way Colette had rushed to Ruffster’s defence yesterday. She just couldn’t believe that the beautiful French Poodle would do anything to harm another dog. But what if I’m wrong? What if Colette is hiding her true nature behind her soft, white curls—like a wolf in sheep’s clothing?
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Honey was surprised so see their caravan empty when they returned. Where were Ruffster and his Guy?
“They’ve gone to the arena,” said Suka, coming out of the neighbouring caravan and stretching. “His Guy took one proper look at Ruffster’s coat this morning and bundled him off. I think there’s a dog wash in the grooming area.” She glanced over her shoulder at her caravan, where they could hear human voices inside, then came closer to Honey. “Hey, I think I’ve come up with a way we could sneak out to that big hill the cows were talking about.”
“How?” asked Honey eagerly.
“Diversion,” said Suka. “Best thing is to get the humans’ attention elsewhere and keep them so busy that no one will be watching when we sneak out of the arena.”
“How are we going to do that?”
“Well, Biscuit told me that they’re holding an extra Beagle show this morning. It’s a special one where pet Beagles are invited as well. I think it’s going to raise money for rescue dogs. If we can create a diversion during that show and keep the humans busy, then we’ll be able to run off unseen. I have an idea—I’ve told Biscuit about it already—and when the time comes, I just need you and Ruffster to be ready to run.”
“Need me to run where?”
They turned.
And stared.
A dog stood wagging his tail at them. It took Honey a minute to realise that it was Ruffster. His usual scruffy brown fur was now groomed and slicked closed to his body. All the wild tufts sticking up everywhere had gone. His raggedy tail had been trimmed into a slim shaft and his one upright ear was flattened to his head with a large strip of tape. Honey did a double take. Ruffster had a blue ribbon clipped onto his head.
“What d’you think?” He bounced eagerly up to them. “Do I look good?”
“Er ...” Honey faltered.
Suka, as usual, had no problems with being bluntly honest. “Howling Hyenas, Ruffster, what have you done to yourself?”
“Went to the groomer, mate, after my bath,” said Ruffster, beaming. “I’m a new dog now! I even got an accessory. They’re real fashionable, you know. All the trendy dogs have ’em.”
“What? You’re wearing a ribbon?” Suka started to laugh. “And for barking out loud, what’s happened to your ear?”
“They taped it down,” explained Ruffster. “So my ears can be the same on both sides. None of the pedigree dogs have one ear that stands up. It’s really ugly.”
“Oh ... I’ve always loved your different ears,” said Honey.
“Yeah, your ears were cool,” said Suka, eyeing the tape. “And unique. Why do you want to look all boring and the same as everybody else? And what’s that awful smell? Have they sprayed some gunk onto your coat?”
Honey noticed that Ruffster’s ears and tail were starting to droop.
“You look nice,” she said hastily. “You ... you just don’t really look like yourself.”
“Well, o’ course, that’s the idea!” said Ruffster. He shuffled his paws, looking a bit embarrassed. “Yesterday, when all those dogs were gangin’ up on me ... and then Colette came up and was defendin’ me ... It was amazin’—I never thought she’d even look at me! So ... so I reckon she’s used to all these fancy pedigree types ... she might like me better if I looked more like ... you know, like Dior and those other show dogs.” He dropped his head and mumbled. “Instead o’ a scruffy mongrel.”
“Ruffster, I think she likes you just the way you are,” said Honey gently.
“Yeah, you should just be yourself,” said Suka, nodding.
Ruffster looked deflated.
Honey gave Suka a nudge and said brightly, “Anyway! Suka was just telling me about her great escape plan.” She turned to the Husky. “Wait—I just thought of something: the only way this would work is if we’re all around the Beagle ring and can leave together at the same time. It’s no use if Ruffster and I are stuck here at the caravans or in some other part of the arena. But how are we going to make sure our humans take us all over to the ring?”
Suka waved her fluffy tail and grinned. “Leave that to me.