by H. Y. Hanna
“D’you have any idea who pushed you?” asked Suka.
Honey hesitated. She glanced at Ruffster who was still happily rolling around. She wondered if she should mention Colette’s strange behaviour. The French Poodle had definitely been out in the rain and she had definitely been hiding something. But what? Could she really have left that fake Peemail and tried to push Honey into harm’s way?
“I ... I don’t know,” Honey said, thinking that was the truth. She flopped down next to Suka. She had been scared at first, when she realised what a close call she had had. There was something horribly creepy about the thought of somebody lying in wait for her like that. But now that her belly was full and she was lying here, safe and dry with her friends, she was beginning to feel angry. And she wanted answers.
“Why?” Honey growled. “Why would anybody want to hurt me?”
“Because you’re winning!” said Suka. She gave a shiver. “It must be that Phantom Hound, Honey. He lured you out there to get you hurt. Everybody says something bad always happens to a winning show dog after the creepy howling ... did you hear howling when you were out there?”
“Yes, I did,” Honey admitted. “And I saw the Phantom Hound too.”
“You saw him?” gasped Suka.
“Yes, but ... but I just don’t feel that he wants to hurt me. It was more like he was trying to tell me something ... to get me to follow him.”
“Mate, you sure it wasn’t just the rain in your eyes?” said Ruffster, rolling over upright. “Don’t reckon there’s any Phantom Hound. Just a bunch o’ scare stories from silly pooches.”
“No, I definitely saw him,” insisted Honey. “He looks like a grey, ghostly dog.”
“But that message wasn’t left with phantom pee, was it?” said Ruffster. “Had to be a real dog who left it.”
“Maybe it was Anja?” asked Suka.
“Nah,” said Ruffster. “It wasn’t Honey’s doopa-goopa. I saw her afterwards—told me a friend o’ the Breeder took her out o’ the crate for a bit o’ fresh air. But she never left any message.”
“Are you sure you couldn’t tell who had left the message?” Biscuit looked at Honey.
She shook her head. “It was an anonymous Peemail. There were no signature scent drops at the end.”
“That’s no problem for a Beagle,” scoffed Biscuit. “Even if a dog doesn’t scent the Peemail, we can still pick up markers from the rest of the message.”
Honey turned to him eagerly. “Will you go over and have a sniff tomorrow? See if you can pick anything up?”
“Sure,” said Biscuit. “Well, as long as my Missus doesn’t shut me up in a crate again.”
“If you stop stealing food, she won’t keep locking you up,” said Suka, flicking her tail impatiently.
“I can’t help it—I’m hungry!” Biscuit wailed. “Did you see what she gave me for dinner tonight?”
“It was a bit measly,” admitted Suka. “But I think—”
The sound of voices made them look up. The caravan door swung open and their humans came out, laughing and talking. Suka’s Boy whistled to her. Honey looked at her friends in surprise as the humans started walking down the path, calling to the dogs to follow. Surely it was too late now to go for a walk?
“Where are we going?” asked Biscuit, bewildered.
Suka trotted back from her Boy. “I think we’re walking down a few caravans to visit that French Poodle, Colette. Remember she said her human was having a party this evening to celebrate her birthday? Sounds like we’re all invited.”
Honey thought of Colette’s strange behaviour again. It was probably nothing, Honey told herself quickly. No need to let her imagination run away with her and jump to conclusions. She liked Colette. And what’s more, Ruffster liked Colette, she thought, looking uneasily at the mongrel mutt.
Ruffster sprang up excitedly. “Wait, there’s somethin’ I’ve got to get.” He hurried back into his own caravan. They watched curiously as he came back out again a few minutes later carrying something in his mouth. He dropped it on the ground to show them. It was a rectangular dog biscuit.
“Got one o’ my dog biscuits,” he said proudly. “Picked the best one from the box. My Guy buys them from the supermarket and gives me one when I’ve been a good boy. I’m goin’ to give it to Colette for her birthday. Reckon she’ll like it?” He looked at them eagerly.
“I’m sure she’ll love it,” said Honey.
“Yeah, they probably don’t have these in the supermarkets in France,” said Suka.
“Is there more?” asked Biscuit. “Can you get one for me too? My birthday’s next month.”
Suka rolled her eyes and hustled Biscuit onto the path. “C’mon! We’re getting left behind.”
They followed the path which ran alongside the parked cars and caravans until they saw a warm, orange glow ahead of them. As they got closer, they could see a group of humans sitting around a large campfire next to a yellow car with a sloping roof. A blue tent had been erected beside the car and several dogs were milling around it. Music blared from a black box nearby. There was a rumble of talk and laughter and Honey could smell the wonderful aroma of barbecued sausages.
“Oh my Dog, smell that!” cried Biscuit, his nose twitching. He pushed past the others and rushed ahead. A makeshift table had been set up next to the blue tent. There was food galore: piles of juicy sausages next to a bowl of bright yellow corn cobs covered in melted butter and steaming in the night air; a plate of crunchy potato wedges, dusted with salt, and another plate of crispy chicken wings, nestled in a bed of green lettuce. In the centre of the table was a chocolate cake covered with gooey icing, a bowl of popcorn, and a huge apple pie, the pastry flaky brown and the top sparkling with sugar.
Honey could feel drool starting to ooze from her mouth and hastily licked her lips. The smell of the food was incredible, like an invisible hand pulling her in. Biscuit’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head. He jumped up and put his paws on the edge of the table, straining with his nose towards the plate of sausages, but someone had cleverly pushed the food in towards the centre of the table so that it was safe from greedy canine snouts. No matter how much he craned his neck and licked his lips, he couldn’t reach a single sausage. Biscuit whined in frustration and did a little hop with his back legs, trying to climb onto the table.
“BISCUIT!”
The Beagle ducked his head guiltily as his Missus marched over and glared at him. They heard laughter behind them and turned to see Marie, Colette’s human, approaching with a big smile on her face.
“I’m so sorry,” said Biscuit’s Missus. “He’s a nightmare! You’d think I never feed him, the way he runs around stealing food all the time.”
Marie laughed. “C’est rien. Do not worry, I can understand. My Colette—she has an obsession with le pop-corn also and she will do anything to get some!” She nodded towards the big bowl of popcorn in the centre of the table. “Twice, I have caught her already trying to climb on la table to reach the bowl. Come, come, let me introduce you to my friends.” She led the humans away, over to the campfire, and soon they were joining in the talk and laughter there.
Honey glanced at the group of dogs on the other side of the campfire. “Come on, we should go find Colette.”
Biscuit gave the table a last, wistful look, then sighed and followed her. They joined the other dogs and, for a moment, there was a frenzy of bum sniffing and tail wagging as the group checked out the newcomers. Honey recognised lots of familiar faces from earlier in the arena although she didn’t know any dog by name.
“Merveilleux! I am so happy you have come!” Colette bounded up to them. She was wearing a big pink bow around her neck and her black eyes were shining, her mouth open in a wide smile. It was such a change from the way she had looked earlier that Honey just stared at her in puzzlement for a moment.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” asked Colette
“Tomorrow?” Honey said.
“Mais oui
, tomorrow morning. You will be going into the ring again. It will be much tougher—you will be competing against the other winners in your group. You do not know this?”
“What? I have to do it all again?” Honey cried, her heart sinking. “I thought ... I thought it was finished. I mean, I did it. I won today.”
Colette laughed. “Non, non, that is only the beginning. You still have to go through more shows tomorrow and then the last day is the ‘Best in Show’. That is the grand prize that every dog wants!”
Honey pricked her ears. ‘Best in Show’ winner? For a moment she imagined herself standing proudly next to her Breeder as the judge handed them a large silver cup: people would be cheering and clapping, Olivia would be laughing and taking photos, dogs would be barking excitedly, Ferrari and Dior would be staring in wonder ...
“Honey?”
Honey jumped and looked around, slightly embarrassed. “Oh. Uh ... yes, of course.” She hoped no one had noticed her daydreaming. A movement caught her eye and she realised that it was Ruffster skulking behind her. She turned and gave him a nudge, pushing him gently towards Colette. “Ruffster’s got something to give you.”
“Oui?” Colette turned to Ruffster, wagging her pom-pom tail.
He gave her a shy wag in return. “Er ... well, it’s for your birthday.”
But before he could say more, there was a commotion beside them. Honey looked around. More dogs were arriving and she instantly recognised one of them. That flowing mane of silver hair, that arrogant toss of the head. It could only be Dior the Afghan Hound. She had to admit that he was breathtakingly beautiful when he moved, his silver hair catching the firelight and rippling across his body like silk. He strode up to them and, ignoring Honey and Ruffster, nodded his head at Colette. He was carrying something in his mouth which he dropped on the ground in front of her.
“I brought something from my treat box for you, Colette,” said Dior. “From the DeliHound Barkery—gourmet dog biscotti with honey oat and cream cheese, covered in peanut butter and carob sprinkles.”
They all stared at the giant bone-shaped biscuit in front of them, which had “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” written in yogurt icing across its creamy surface.
“Holy liver treat,” breathed Biscuit, shoving his nose closer. “That is the most amazing dog biscuit I have ever seen!”
Colette gave it an appreciative sniff. “Oh ... merci, Dior. It is formidable.”
The big Afghan nodded regally. “Of course, only the best for a chienne like you.”
Colette turned back to Ruffster and said brightly, “I am sorry. They interrupt. You were going to give me something too?”
Ruffster’s tail dropped between his legs. “Oh, er ... it’s nothing. Forget it.”
Colette tilted her head. “But you said before...” She looked down by Ruffster’s paws. “Is it this?”
She nosed it into the light and they all looked at the small, plain dog biscuit with “DOG” etched onto its surface. Ruffster hunched over, trying to make himself smaller.
“Oh!” said Colette. “It is ... very nice. Merci beaucoup!” She wagged her tail at Ruffster.
Dior looked over at the small biscuit and curled his lips back. “What do you call that?” He laughed.
“It’s the thought that counts,” said Honey quickly.
“I’ll eat it if nobody wants it!” offered Biscuit eagerly.
“Mais non, of course I want it,” declared Colette, scooping up both biscuits in her mouth.
Biscuit watched her enviously as she trotted over to the blue tent and deposited them both inside. As she was coming back, more dogs arrived with their humans. Honey saw the unmistakable flash of Ferrari’s lime green snood.
“Yo! Colette—Happy B-day.” The young Cocker Spaniel swaggered up to her with a group of dogs trailing at his heels. “Broughtcha a special gift.” He dropped something on the ground in front of her.
They all leaned over to look. It was a black-and-white photograph of Ferrari himself surrounded by a fuzzy, heart-shaped frame and some human had scrawled “Kisses, Ferrari” in the bottom right-hand corner.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” muttered Ruffster.
CHAPTER 10
Honey groaned as she dragged herself out of the caravan the next morning. She was definitely not a morning dog. Most days, she liked to go back for a long nap to recover from the effort of eating breakfast. Besides, no self-respecting Great Dane would settle for less than eighteen hours of sleep a day and she was already tired from the full day yesterday—all that running around meant that she had barely had a chance for a snooze.
Olivia gave the leash a little tug. “Come on, Honey. We’ve got to get you looking good for the show today. Your breeder will be waiting for us at the grooming area.”
Honey sighed and followed Olivia towards the arena. It was still very early and there were few other people or dogs about when they stepped in. As they walked past the show rings, Honey noticed a woman standing by the wall with the framed photos of past winners. The woman was looking up at the picture of the last winner—the picture of Graf the Hungarian Puli—and her shoulders were shaking spasmodically.
She’s crying, Honey realised. Olivia noticed her too and paused, frowning. She walked towards the woman and put a gentle hand on her shoulder, asking if she was all right. The woman gave a start and turned, stuffing something hurriedly into her pocket. In her haste, her hands missed and Honey saw a piece of paper flutter down to land on the floor a few feet away.
Olivia took some tissues out of her own pocket and offered them to the woman, patting her soothingly on the back. They turned away, speaking in low voices. Honey glanced back at the piece of paper on the floor, then walked curiously towards it. Luckily her leash was long enough for her to get close enough for a good look.
It turned out that it wasn’t a piece of paper—it was a photograph. A photograph of a dog. Honey stared at it. It was a medium-sized white dog with long dreadlocks covering his face and body—almost identical to Graf in the picture above—except that this dog had one grey ear. Honey tilted her head in puzzlement. Who was he?
A voice calling her name made her turn around. The woman was walking off and Olivia was heading once more towards the grooming area. Honey gave the photograph a last look, then quickly followed Olivia. When they arrived at the grooming area, they found Suka already there, being groomed by her Boy. On another grooming table nearby, Honey spied Colette the French Poodle with her human, Marie, fussing over her white curls. And beside them, Honey was delighted to see Anja being brushed by the Breeder.
“You’re feeling better?” she asked her cousin as she and Olivia went up to join them.
“Yes, thanks,” said Anja, giving her an affectionate sniff.
“Oh, then maybe you can go in the ring today!” Honey said eagerly.
“No, Honey, it doesn’t work like that,” said Anja. “You won yesterday so you have to be the one competing again today. I can’t just swap back in.”
“But ... you’re so much better than me.” Honey ducked her head. “I don’t think I can do it again, Anja. Yesterday was just luck.”
“Don’t be silly,” said Anja. “You did great yesterday. All the other dogs were talking about it. I’m sure you’ll be fantastic again today. In fact, I think you have a good chance of winning ‘Best in Show’.”
“Really?” Honey looked up in delight. For a moment, she remembered Colette’s words from the night before. The vision of herself standing next to the silver trophy cup rose up again in her mind’s eye. Suddenly, Honey really wanted to win that cup. She raised her chin and looked at Anja. “I’ll do my best.”
Maybe getting up early was a good idea after all, thought Honey as the Breeder beckoned her over. Need to make sure I have enough time to get primped and polished for the show. The Breeder led her to the empty space beside Colette’s table, where the French Poodle was having some white powder dusted onto her coat.
“What’s that for?” asked Honey.
“It is chalk,” explained Colette. “It helps to make my coat look more white.”
“But ... isn’t that cheating?” Honey frowned.
Colette shrugged. “Everybody does it at shows. It is not really cheating. I do not hide my real colour—I am white. It is just something to—how you say?—enhance it.” She looked at Honey earnestly. “It is très difficile, very tough, to win in the show ring. You have to use everything you can to look your best, do everything you can to win.”
Honey pondered this as the Breeder carefully brushed her own coat. If Colette thought it was OK to cheat a little in order to win—did it mean that she thought it was also OK to hurt another dog to stop them from winning? She watched as the French Poodle finally jumped off her grooming table and wagged her pom-pom tail at Honey before trotting off with Marie. Honey just couldn’t believe that Colette would do anything to hurt another dog.
But then, I can’t really believe that of any dog here, she thought, looking around. Maybe the other dogs were right after all and it was the Phantom Hound behind these attacks?
“Hey,” Suka came up next to her, startling Honey out of her thoughts. The Husky had been brushed into full fluffy glory again. Honey had to move slightly to make room for Suka’s tail.
“Biscuit’s gone off to check that fake Peemail,” Suka said in a low voice.
Honey perked up. “That’s great! How did he manage to sneak off?”
Suka grinned. “There was some big problem over by the Beagle ring and his Missus had to rush off to sort it out. My Boy’s Mother went to help as well. So they left Biscuit with my Boy to look after ...” Suka’s blue eyes twinkled mischievously. “Well, you know ten-year-old human boys aren’t always the best at keeping an eye on dogs, especially if they’re easily distracted ... Watch this!” She turned and jumped up on her Boy, putting her paws on his chest and licking him in the face enthusiastically. He squealed and laughed, scrunching up his eyes and trying to push her off. Suka dropped back down on all fours and grinned at Honey again. “See? Works every time. And Biscuit will be back before my Boy even notices that he’s missing.” She looked beyond Honey. “Oh look—there he is!”
