Stud Rites

loaded!” she announced authoritatively. And after getting a grip on Casey’s lead, she took her Best of Breed back into what was unquestionably her ring.
     

 
     
    HOW TIMMY OLIVER’S mug shots turned out, I don’t know. They couldn’t have been flattering. By the time they were taken, I guess he’d had the splinters removed from his scalp, but his hair was probably messy. Although he’d no doubt had a Teflon-coated comb or a finishing brush in one of his pockets when he was arrested, the police must have confiscated all his possessions.
    I suspect, though, that Timmy didn’t look too much Worse than the rest of us. Even the official show photographer who took the picture of Casey’s win failed to make the occasion appear normal. On the far right, Mary Jane Holabach, Casey’s co-owner and human Mom, is as pretty and well groomed as ever, and she’s managing to smile, but the malamutes in the framed Print she displays seem to be standing on their heads: She is holding the picture upside down. Freida Reilly’s show chair badge, purple flowers, and gold dog team are askew; her closed eyes suggest that instead of presenting the malamute quilt she’s holding to Casey and the Holabachs, she’ll wrap it around herself, drop to the floor, and take a long, drugged nap. Although Mikki Muldoon hides her feet behind several pots of flowers and a collection of trophies, you can see that her slip is showing. Furthermore, her once-carrot hair is a little disheveled. Her bearing, however, is flawless, and as usual, she is fastening the ornate purple-and-gold Best of Breed rosette to her own midriff. Al’s color has not returned. He looms over Casey, as if fearful that the dog might again be taken hostage. Casey’s ears are, as always, alert. His broad winner’s smile reveals a red tongue. Every single hair is exactly where it should be. Indeed, everything in Casey’s world is just as it should be: He is used to creating a stir. This time, he thinks, he has simply outdone himself.
    Or so it seems in the photo. I wasn’t there when it was taken. I left even before Judge Muldoon picked Daphne for Best of Opposite—Best of Opposite Sex to Best of Breed. (Since Best of Breed was a male—Casey —Best of Opposite was a female—Daphne.) The female of Sherri Ann’s who’d gone Winners Bitch defeated the Winners Dog for Best of Winners. (Still not fluent? Winners Bitch: the winner of the championship points in the competition among the bitches who weren’t yet champions. Winners Dog: same thing, but for males. Best of Winners: She’s defeated the other girls who were vying for points. He’s defeated the other boys. Both have won championship points. Now we have the battle of the sexes: Winners Bitch versus Winners Dog’ The victor? Best of Winners. Okay, so what about Casey and Daphne? Best of Breed and Best of Opposite? Why didn’t they win the points? Because they weren’t competing for points, that’s why; they were already champions and thus entered only in the Best of Breed competition. Ah, but could the Winners Dog or Winners Bitch also have gone Best of Breed? Yes, thereby automatically becoming Best of Winners. Confusing? Consider tennis. Fifteen, thirty, forty, game? And ”love”? What on earth does ”love” have to do with tennis? Love is no racket! On the contrary, love is a warm you-know-what.) Anyway, I wish I’d been there. I hated to miss the judging of the Stud Dog, Brood Bitch, Brace, and Team classes, too, but Betty needed help with Timmy Oliver’s dogs. Seconds after Timmy was arrested for the murder of James Hunnewell, Betty, of course, started to worry about his dogs. Timmy, she declared, belonged in a jail cell. But what had the innocent Z-Rocks and the silver male and, especially, the two puppies done to deserve incarceration? Her concern was well founded. Detective Kariotis did, in fact, try to claim the dogs as evidence. But Betty held out, and before long, she and Kariotis worked out a trade. Betty would have had to surrender the lamp, anyway; in bartering the murder weapon for the dogs, she got a good deal.
    As we started across the parking lot toward Timmy’s camper, I said, ”You know, Betty, I feel so stupid. Duke told me so much that I can’t help thinking that he knew all along. I mean, he’s the one who told me about Timmy Oliver and James Hunnewell’s co-ownership agreement: that Timmy co-owned Comet in name only and that Hunnewell controlled absolutely