Chapter Two
Terry went first to clear a path though the crowded room. Crawford followed with his Standard Poodle. Coral was behind them, with Sam, Aunt Peg, and Davey forming an honor guard around the perfectly coiffed Poodle so no one could reach out and touch her. Kevin and I brought up the rear.
The dog show was part of a “Fall Festival Cluster,” and the hall where the event was held had been decorated to reflect the theme. We walked past a stack of hay bales topped by a row of jack-o’-lanterns. Arrangements of marigolds and chrysanthemums adorned the show rings. When we came to a stuffed scarecrow with button eyes and a floppy straw hat, Kevin abruptly stopped and stared.
“What is that?” he asked.
“You’ve seen a scarecrow before. We watched The Wizard of Oz together.”
Kev leaned in for a closer look. “Is he alive?”
I quickly stifled a laugh. “No. The scarecrow in the movie wasn’t really alive either. It was just make believe.”
He considered that as I tugged on his hand to get him moving again. We needed to get to the ring. The Standard Poodle judging was about to start, and the entry wasn’t large. That was one of the reasons Aunt Peg had chosen this show for Coral’s first venture in Best of Variety competition.
Usually Crawford would have had a special of his own to show. Today he’d brought just one Standard Poodle with him—the class dog. Even so, I wasn’t about to get my hopes up. Crawford always had to be considered a threat. He was perfectly capable of beating Davey from the classes.
“What about the Tin Man?” Kevin asked, as we hurried to catch up.
“No. Sorry.” I glanced down. “He was a made-up character, too. They all were.”
“Even the Wizard?” His voice rose in stunned disbelief as we arrived at ringside. Several exhibitors, waiting their turns outside the gate, turned to look.
Sam appeared beside us. He’d picked up Davey’s numbered armband from the steward. The Puppy Dog class was already being judged.
“Everything okay?” he asked as he affixed the number to the top of Davey’s sleeve.
“Fine,” I told him. “We’re just having a small Wizard of Oz crisis.”
Eyes trained on the competition, Aunt Peg said under her breath, “As long as it isn’t a Poodle crisis, it can wait.”
“Don’t worry, munchkin.” Davey reached over and ruffled his brother’s hair. Of the five of us standing there grouped around Coral, he appeared to be the most composed. “We’ll fix your problem when I come out of the ring.”
No one was surprised when Crawford’s Poodle won the Open Dog class, then beat the winner of the Puppy class, taking the award of Winners Dog and the points toward his championship that came with it. Just four class bitches were entered. The judge took less than ten minutes to sort them out and pick his Winners Bitch. Then it was Davey and Coral’s turn.
The Best of Variety competition consisted of Coral, two additional champion bitches, Crawford’s Winners Dog and the Winners Bitch. When the five Poodles were lined up along one side of the ring—the three champions in front, followed by the class dogs—we all moved in closer so we wouldn’t miss a thing.
I quickly realized Davey was the only nonprofessional handler in the class. In his place, I’d have been nervous. Davey looked cool, calm, and very competent. He and Coral were second in the row, but Davey paid no attention to the champions on either side of him. He simply did his job and concentrated on his own Poodle. He stacked Coral in a square stance, with her head and tail up. Then he waited for the judge to make his first pass down the line.
Having concluded his duties for the time being, Terry came over to stand beside us. While the judge ran his gaze over the group of Poodles in the ring, Terry did the same.
“Coral looks good in there,” he said softly.
“Shhh!” Aunt Peg hissed. She was wildly superstitious when it came to predictions about the judging.
Terry just shrugged. He was one of the few people who wasn’t intimidated by her. “I’m only saying what I see.”
“Don’t make me cover your mouth,” Aunt Peg growled.
Terry grinned. “I’d like to see you try.” His voice was lower still this time. Even he didn’t dare provoke Peg twice at ringside.
Then the judge motioned for the handlers to take their Poodles around the ring together and we all went silent. Even Kevin appeared to be mesmerized by the sight. Coral’s movement was breathtaking. It was one of the reasons Davey had been able to successfully handle her to her championship. It definitely caught the judge’s eye on the first go-around.
Then his gaze slid past Coral and landed on Crawford’s dog. Not only was the big black Poodle a superior specimen of the breed, he also possessed the advantage of having Crawford at the end of his leash. The dog was striding around the ring as if he owned the place.
“That’s trouble,” Sam murmured.
“Indeed.” Aunt Peg sighed.
Terry and I shared a look. We’d both seen the same thing they had.
The judge placed the two dogs on one side of the ring, then turned the competition into a duel among the trio of champion bitches. Briefly that made me hope that he planned to choose his Best of Variety winner from among them. Davey did a commendable job of presenting Coral, and the bitch herself was lovely. Of these three, she was clearly the best.
Unfortunately that wasn’t enough. When the judge made his final decision, he motioned Crawford’s dog to the top spot. Coral was placed behind him. The judge then pointed and announced his winners. Best of Variety and Best of Winners to the big black dog in front. Best of Opposite Sex to Coral.
“Oh well,” Aunt Peg said. She shrugged and turned away.
“Oh well,” Kevin echoed as Davey accepted the red-and-white rosette from the judge, then exited the ring. Crawford and his Poodle remained behind to have his picture taken. Terry hurried in to help make repairs to the dog’s coat.
“I’m sorry,” Davey told Aunt Peg, when he and Coral reached the spot where we’d gathered to watch.
“Are you?” She gazed down at him and arched a brow. “For what?”
“For not winning,” he said unhappily. “I tried hard. Coral did too. I thought she looked great.”
“She did,” Peg agreed.
“But . . .” Davey began.
“But,” Aunt Peg interrupted him firmly, “you were so busy concentrating on your own dog that you didn’t take a moment to evaluate your competition.”
Davey looked surprised. “That’s the judge’s job.”
“Of course. But it’s also yours. It’s not enough just to know your own dog’s merits and flaws. When you’re in the ring, you also need to know what you’re up against. What good does it do to showcase your Poodle’s pretty head if the Poodle standing behind you has an even prettier one?”
Davey didn’t say a word. He’d obviously never considered that.
“Just because the dog that beat you today came from the classes, doesn’t mean he wasn’t worthy of respect in the Variety ring. If you’d been paying more attention, you’d have realized what a handsome Standard Poodle Crawford had in there. That dog will be a special himself soon enough—and then we’ll all need to watch out. Even on Coral’s best day, he’s more than capable of giving her a run for her money.”
Davey frowned. He still didn’t look happy. “I guess so.”
Aunt Peg wasn’t finished. “There’s no reason for you to exit the ring and stand around moping,” she added briskly. “Of course you wanted to win. I wanted to win too. But you have to keep an open mind and realize that you don’t always deserve to.”
Kevin must have realized that his brother was on the losing end of that discussion because he marched over to stand in front of Aunt Peg. He tipped back his head and stared way up at her. “I wanted to win too,” he announced.
“Did you?” She gazed down at him. “Why?”
“Because I like purple-and-gold ribbons.”
“If you’re lucky, maybe next time we’ll get one for you. But now your parents and I are going to take Coral back to the setup. Perhaps you and Davey should take a few minutes to work out your wizard problems. Then we’ll see you back there shortly?”
Aunt Peg posed the remark as a question, but we all knew we’d been given our orders. As we headed back toward the grooming area, I fell in beside her.
“Did you mean what you told Davey back there?” I asked.
“Of course I did.”
“All of it?”
This time she hesitated.
“Is Crawford’s dog better than Coral? Would you have marked that class the same way?”
“No, not today,” Aunt Peg admitted. “But it was close. And I can see how someone else might compare the two and place them differently than I would.”
“Not to mention the Crawford factor,” Sam said. “Davey did well showing Coral in the classes, but if he wants to be competitive showing in the Variety against the pros, he’s going to have to take his skills up a notch.”
Aunt Peg nodded in agreement. “You’re quite right. The margin for error is growing slimmer all the time. We’re in the big leagues now.”