Paws before dying

ecstatic, unguarded twelve. “Isn’t she wonderful? Aren’t you proud of her? She is the most wonderful dog in the world, aren’t you, Kimi? Aren’t you? So now I can register her for a trial, right? The second we get home.”
    As I finished packing up our belongings, the fatigue suddenly hit me hard. “Speaking of home,” I said, thinking disjointedly of PTA presidents, pacemakers, microwaves, and the old electronics, “how would you like to drive? I’m sweltering, and I’m so tired. Oh, there’s Bess. You ought to tell her. Her feelings will be hurt if you don’t.”
    Near the registration table, Bess Stein was surrounded by people and dogs, including, I noticed, Willie Johnson and Righteous. The sides of Willie’s head looked freshly shaved. He had the dog’s lead in one hand and a green qualifying ribbon in the other.
    “Hey, Willie,” Leah said as happily as if our fence had been washed in white instead of fouled in red. “Congratulations! Hi, Righteous. You were a good boy, huh?”
    In back of Willie stood a young man I had no trouble identifying as the third Johnson brother—in other words, the first Mitchell Dale Johnson, Jr. He had the same white-blond hair, thick cheeks, and heavy-boned build as Dale and Willie, but he was thinner than the other two, and his hair was slicked back on the sides and poufed up on the crown of his head. He had on tasseled leather loafers, tan pants with sharp, deliberate creases, and an unfaded black polo shirt. My own white pants were grass-stained and wrinkled, and I hadn’t combed my hair since I’d doused it with water, but I didn’t feel inferior. I had two Alaskan malamutes. The only animal he had was a small embroidered horse over his heart, and someone else was riding it.
    “Nice husky,” he said to me. About one person in a hundred gets it right. He pointed at Rowdy as if he were a flashy car, an object.
    “Close,” I said. “Alaskan malamute. Malamutes are bigger. They all have brown eyes.”
    “Tough, huh?”
    I nodded. “Strong.” Well, they are strong. “You Willie’s brother?”
    “Mitch.” He extended his hand in one of those gestures that salesmen learn somewhere. When he shook my hand, I was aware that my palm was breaded in dog drool, IAMS biscuits, and fur, and that his wasn’t, or it wasn’t before. When he with-; drew his hand, I could tell that he wanted to wipe it on some-1 thing, but instead of scraping it off on his thigh, he reached I toward Rowdy, who did something almost unprecedented. He braced himself on all fours and growled. I tried not to look I stunned. The sound was very deep, almost inaudible, and deadly serious. “Don’t touch me,” it said. “And don’t touch her again, either.”
    But Mitch heard it. “Sorry,” he said, backing off a step. “Tough guy.”
    “He won’t hurt you,” I said. “But probably you shouldn’t pat him, just in case. Rowdy, sit.” He did, but he kept one eye on Mitch and the other on me. “Nice to meet you,” I said to Mitch. “We’ve got to go. I have a fence to work on when I get j home.”
    He looked puzzled.
    “Someone painted it for me last night,” I said, “but I don’t like the color. It used to be white. Now it’s red.” Then I made a belated introduction: “I’m Holly Winter.” I gestured toward Leah. Bess had an arm around her, and Willie was standing next to her. “That’s my cousin, Leah. Well, nice to meet you.”
    It took me a few minutes to retrieve Leah and Kimi. Bess had to congratulate me and hear our score, and on the way to the parking lot, we ran into some people and spent a few minutes comparing notes and talking about the trials coming up. When we’d finally stashed the dogs and our gear in the back of the Bronco, I collapsed in the passenger seat, and Leah got the engine and the air-conditioning going. As she pulled out of the ' lot, I saw Willie cram his shepherd into the backseat of a red and white Corvette and lower himself in. Mitch, who’d been standing by the car giving people a chance to notice what he drove, climbed into the driver’s seat and shut the door.
    If people noticed the Corvette at all, what registered was probably nothing more than how out of place it looked among all of the full-size station wagons, vans, and roomy 4 X 4s bought to accommodate dogs, crates, grooming tables, coolers, and more dogs. The brothers looked out of place, too, and at a dog show or a match, that’s not easy. Whether you’re five