Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

they entered the contest.”
    “You’re talking about Ben?” I guessed.
    “Among others.”
    “Like who?”
    The handler glanced over his shoulder in both directions before speaking. He wasn’t the only one who had big ears. “I’m talking about Dorothy and MacDuff.”
    I thought about that. Over in the next setup, Eve was looking better and better by the minute. Sam had her topknot in and Aunt Peg was almost finished scissoring. Now all that remained for them to do was spray her up.
    Not only were they doing a better job than I could have done, but they were faster, too. I should have thought to enlist their services a long time ago. Not having to prep my own Poodle for the ring definitely made the whole dog show experience much more relaxing.
    “Dorothy did say something at the first meeting about MacDuff missing the limelight. That once she retired him from showing, he got bored.”
    “ He got bored?” Terry said with a sniff. “I don’t think so. How old is that Scottie anyway? Five? Six? Seven? She’s been running his little feet off for years. There probably isn’t a show on the entire East Coast he hasn’t been to.”
    “And won at.”
    Terry nodded. “I never said he wasn’t a good Scottie. Just that Dorothy kept specialing him long after most owners would have been happy to let that poor old thing enjoy a well deserved retirement.”
    “It seems to me she did give him some time off on a couple of different occasions over the years,” Aunt Peg said.
    “Usually when she was bringing out a puppy of his—one she thought might be good enough to take his place. But none of them panned out the way she hoped. They were good enough to finish and maybe put a couple of groups on. But none were as good as their sire. Dorothy wanted a dog that could win week after week at the highest level. And that had to be MacDuff.”
    “But she finally did retire him,” I pointed out.
    “She pretty much had to,” said Sam. “I showed Tar against him a couple of times last fall. MacDuff had definitely lost a step or two. It was clear even then that he was pretty much just coasting along on his reputation. If she wanted him to go out a winner, it was time to stop.”
    “But then the contest came along,” said Terry. “And next thing you know, they were up and running again. If you think Dorothy was a fierce competitor in the dog show ring, honey, watch out now. Looks to me like Chow Down is offering her and MacDuff wider recognition than anything they could ever have achieved in the dog show world. Dorothy’s not about to let an opportunity like that slip through her fingers.”
    I filed that away for further consideration later, as the other three went back to work. A few minutes later, Bertie and Crawford appeared. Having finished in their respective rings, both were leading winners.
    “Eve looks great,” said Bertie admiringly. She stowed her Clumber Spaniel in a crate and tucked his purple and gold Best of Breed ribbon in her tack box.
    “Thank my capable assistants,” I said.
    “I’m glad I’m only showing a couple of puppies for experience. She’ll be hard to—”
    “Don’t say it!” Peg snapped. Where dog shows are concerned, she’s very superstitious.
    Bertie grinned and whispered, “Beat.”
    Aunt Peg glared.
    Bertie ignored her. She’d picked up the Poodle armbands on her way back from the rings. She handed me mine and I slipped it up my arm.
    Her two Standard puppies were on their tabletops, waiting patiently. She stood them up and both shook out their coats. The hair lifted, then fell right back into place, the sign of a scissoring job well done.
    “Time to head over,” she said. “Let’s go get ’em.”

13
    J ust like at the previous show, Crawford and Terry didn’t have any Standard Poodles entered. The two of them remained behind when our small procession made its way to the ring. Bertie’s puppies led the way, hopping and scampering through the crowds.
    The two were littermates, and both were bitches. Since Bertie would be handling both of them, one had been entered in the Puppy Class, the other in American-Bred. At their young age, their owner wasn’t expecting them to win. But even puppies that were showing to socialize and get experience added to the numbers that produced the solid major.
    Eve was eligible for the Bred by Exhibitor class, but I’d put her in Open. That was where the toughest competition would be entered; and showing her there sent a signal to