Chow Down

by Laurien Berenson

  Most dogs heartily dislike elevators and Faith was no exception. She dropped her tail and flattened her ears against her head when the doors slid open and she realized we’d be getting in. “It’s only three floors,” I told her. “And only because we don’t know where we’re going. On the way back down, we’ll walk.”

  When the doors had closed, I took the still-unchewed biscuit out of her mouth and slipped it into my pocket. Hopefully there weren’t any cameras in the elevator.

  As we rose to the third floor, I wondered whether whoever had named the room where we were heading knew that Cerberus—the most famous canine in Greek mythology—was actually a three-headed canine that guarded the gates of hell. Or maybe I was just still being paranoid.

  Though we’d come a little early, when Faith and I reached the Cerberus Room I saw that we weren’t the first to arrive. It looked as though most of the other finalists were hoping to make a good impression by appearing eager. A quick look around the room revealed that Ben and his Boxer, Brando, were the only ones missing. Having browsed the web site the night before, I was able to recognize the rest of the competitors.

  Lisa and Larry Kim were an Asian couple in their thirties, both slender and meticulously groomed. Though the other dogs in the room stood beside their owners on leashes, Larry held Yoda the Yorkie in his arms. The Kims weren’t mingling; instead they stood off to one side, reserved and unsmiling. Lisa looked unsure of herself; Larry merely appeared impatient for the proceedings to begin.

  I’d never met Dorothy Foyle, though I’d seen her at plenty of shows with MacDuff. She was every bit as durable a campaigner as the black Scottish Terrier that sat on the floor pressed up against her sensible, low-heeled pumps. In her fifties, Dorothy had been a part of the dog show world nearly as long as Aunt Peg. Her sturdy figure and relentlessly cheery demeanor masked a steely sense of resolve that had served the pair well in the show ring.

  Bill and Allison Redding, owners of Ginger the triple-threat Brittany, were another young couple. Bill was formally dressed in a suit and tie, and looked as though he might have dashed over to the meet-and-greet from work. He met my gaze and offered a quick smile in return. Allison, kneeling on the floor beside Ginger, was oblivious to the rest of the room. She spoke to the orange and white Brittany in a low voice, her arm lifting and falling in a nervous rhythm as her hand stroked repeatedly from the dog’s head to her short tail.

  Faith and I had barely stepped inside the room before a man detached himself from a small group standing beside the door.

  “Doug Allen, contest chair,” he said. “You must be Melanie and Faith. Welcome! We’re so glad you could join us.”

  Doug took my hand in his and pulled me forward. “Let me introduce to you to the rest of our committee. These are the people you have to worry about impressing over the next few weeks. They’re the ones whose opinions have the power to make your dog a star or send you packing.”

  Doug sounded like the host of a TV reality show and the broad wink he trained in my direction did nothing to diminish the self-importance of his tone. He ushered me to the edge of the group by the door and pointed quickly from one committee member to the next. “Cindy Burrows, Chris Hovick, Simone Dorsey.”

  I started to say hello but quickly realized that none of the three judges was paying even the slightest attention to me. Instead they were all staring with avid curiosity at Faith. Displaying that her manners were better than theirs, the Poodle ignored their scrutiny and stood quietly by my side.

  “Beautiful,” Simone Dorsey said. Everything about the woman was polished: from her shoes, to her nails, to her shiny lips. “What a classy-looking dog.”

  Chris, bespectacled, balding, and as rumpled as Simone was sleek, shook his head. “She’s too composed. That won’t play well on television.”

  “Maybe she can animate?” Cindy asked. The youngest of the trio, she was also the first to reach out and give Faith a tentative pat. “You know, like on command?” She lifted her eyes to me. “She does tricks, doesn’t she?”

  “A few,” I said. “I really haven’t spent any time on that. But Faith’s a fast learner. She’s always been able to pick up anything I want her to know without any problem.”

  “Ginger does tricks,” Bill Redding said from across the room. Belatedly I realized that our introduction was being minutely observed by the other finalists. Allison was already rising and tugging the Brittany to her feet. “She can do all sorts of things. What would you like to see?”

  As soon as Ginger began to move in our direction, Larry Kim did, too. His little Yorkie appeared to be dancing with eagerness in his arms. Or maybe Larry was shaking her. I was beginning to think I wouldn’t put anything past this group.

  “We don’t need to see anything just yet.” Doug held up a hand to stop the sudden flurry of activity. “There will be plenty of time for that later. For now, let’s just all relax and get to know one another.”

  “We’re missing a participant,” Dorothy pointed out. “I guess Ben doesn’t appreciate this opportunity as much as the rest of us do.”

  “Now Dorothy, don’t go putting words in my mouth. You might give our esteemed judges the wrong idea.”

  Ben and Brando came sweeping through the doorway together and they made a striking pair. Owner and dog were both trim and muscular. Brando’s compact body was enhanced by his fawn coloring, set off to perfection by the dark mask that covered his muzzle and eyes. Looking at the duo, I wondered whether Ben had timed his arrival to the minute, choosing to be last and make a dramatic entrance into an already full room.

  “Here we are, everybody accounted for,” Ben continued cheerfully. “You must be Doug. We spoke on the phone. Brando and I are thrilled to be included in your happy group.” He managed to subtly shoulder me aside and stuck out his hand. “I know the rest of the participants, but perhaps you might introduce me to your colleagues?”

  While Doug took care of that, I walked Faith over to a sideboard where tea and coffee were being served. Next to the drinks were three silver serving trays. One held cookies, the second an assortment of muffins, the third was filled with dog biscuits.

  Faith was just below eye level with the offerings on the table. She lifted her nose and sniffed the air, but didn’t ask for a biscuit. Clearly the Champions products didn’t meet the standards of her finicky palate.

  As soon as the introductions were finished, we all found seats around the large conference table. I placed Faith in a down-stay on the floor beside my chair. Allison Redding followed suit with Ginger. Ben unhooked Brando’s leash and left the Boxer free to wander the room.

  Larry Kim, his hands full with Yoda, hadn’t taken a cup of coffee. Now, when he sat at the table, his dog was the only one still readily visible to the committee members. Dorothy caught on to that fact at the same time I did. She deliberately chose a chair that had another empty one beside it.

  Like Miniature and Toy Poodles, Scotties are shown on top of grooming tables, so I was quite sure that MacDuff was accustomed to finding himself plopped on top of things and expected to stay. As I watched, Dorothy lifted the small dog and placed him on the padded leather seat. The Scottie balanced himself on his haunches as she pushed the chair in.

  When it reached the table, MacDuff lifted both front legs, placed them on the polished wooden edge, and put his wiry black muzzle down between his paws. His dark eyes looked up and around the assembled group, gazing at each of us as if he was simply another participant in the meeting.

  Now that was cute.

  Simone pulled out a small pad of paper and made an unobtrusive note. Dorothy looked complacently pleased. Ben rolled his eyes. Lisa Kim was smiling. Really, it was hard not to. Then Larry caught his wife’s eye and glared. Immediately her eyes dropped to the hands she’d folded in her lap.

  “Well MacDuff,” Doug said jovially. “What do you say? Shall we call this meeting to order?”

  Let the games begin.

  6

  “Let’s start
by introducing ourselves again,” Doug said. “Since most of us are meeting for the first time, I think it would be a good idea if we each took a minute to talk about who we are, what we do, and why Champions dog food is important to us.”

  He paused and looked expectantly around the table. Everyone nodded in agreement except MacDuff who seemed to be eyeing a muffin Chris had placed next to his laptop.

  “Since I’m the contest chairperson, I’ll start. I’m also vice president of marketing for Champions Dog Food, which means that I’m the one in charge of telling the world that we manufacture the best canine nutritional products on earth.”

  Doug sounded as peppy as a high school cheerleader, and I found myself grinning at his extravagant job description. Nothing like a little hyperbole to get the meeting off to a good start. Then I looked around the table and realized that everyone else was taking his pronouncements seriously. Oops.

  He nodded to Simone, who was seated at his right.

  “Simone Dorsey,” she said. Her tone was flat, modulated. “I’m director of public relations. My job is to keep this company and our products in front of the public eye, so that when the time comes for people to choose a healthy, balanced diet for their dogs, they’ll think of us first. This contest was my idea, and I think we’ve come up with five superb finalists. Any one of your dogs would make a fine representative for Chow Down dog food.”

  This time everyone smiled when she finished speaking. I was relieved to join in; finally I was beginning to catch on to the important cues.

  Chris Hovick went next. “Hey,” he said, sketching a small wave in the air. “I’m Chris, more formally known as director of advertising. I’m the one who comes up with the specific campaigns that best illustrate to the public what our products are all about. And Chow Down is going to be big, man. I’m proud to be part of the campaign and I know you will be, too.”

  More cheerleading. I guessed the intended effect was to get our competitive juices flowing. If so, judging by the intent expressions I saw on the other finalists’ faces, it was working.

  “Cindy Burrows.” The last member of the team flipped her long French braid back over her shoulder and introduced herself. “Product manager for Chow Down and delighted to be here. I hope you all are, too. Champions Dog Food is important to me because I believe in the quality of the products.” She stopped and smiled slyly, her gaze sliding around the table. “And because they sign my paycheck.”

  Finally, I thought, as we all laughed together. Someone who was willing to inject a small dose of reality into the proceedings. Doug and Simone, I noted, both joined in the merriment, but neither looked amused by the comment.

  “Now you know who we are,” Doug said when the laughter had died down. “It’s your turn to tell us something about you.”

  “What do you want to know?” The rest of us had hesitated; but not Ben, he spoke right up.

  “Whatever you feel is important for the selection committee to consider,” said Simone.

  Chris nodded. “Surprise us.”

  Nothing like a little pressure.

  Ben, however, didn’t seem to mind. He was in his element and happy to go first.

  “I’m an actor,” he said. “You’ve probably seen my work on television and on the stage. And Brando is an actor’s dog. Aside from being a gorgeous Boxer, that’s something else we bring to the table that none of the other finalists can. Brando and I are professionals. We won’t require a lot of coaching to put in a good performance. We both know how to get the job done and to look good doing it.”

  “Thank you,” Doug said when Ben paused to draw a breath.

  The actor looked disgruntled by the interruption. Clearly he hadn’t intended to give up the spotlight so quickly. “No, thank you. Brando and I would also like you to know that we appreciate this wonderful opportunity and that if we’re the ones chosen to represent Chow Down dog food, we will devote the full range of our considerable talents to the project. I promise you we won’t let you down.”

  “Excellent,” said Simone. I wondered if she was responding to Ben’s words or the fact that he’d been flirting with her shamelessly since the moment he’d first entered the room.

  “Moving on . . .” Doug prompted. “Bill and Allison, what would you like to tell us about Ginger?”

  “First and foremost, that she’s a great dog,” Allison said, her voice pumped with enthusiasm. “With a wonderful personality. She’s almost been like a child to us . . .” She paused and a blush rose to her cheek. “I mean, not that we think she’s human or anything—”

  “It’s all right, honey, they know what you mean,” Bill took over for her. “Allison and I aren’t breeders. Ginger is the only dog we own. And look what she’s accomplished. She’s a conformation champion, she’s working on her Utility degree in obedience and she’s also qualified for her field championship. Having the opportunity to own a dog of this caliber is kind of like hitting the lottery, they just don’t come along every day—”

  “What Bill’s trying to say is that Ginger can do it all.” Allison was speaking again now. I felt like we were being tag-teamed. On the other hand, I could see how the committee might find the couple’s energy infectious.

  Bill reached down and patted the Brittany’s head. “Once you stop and think about it, I know you’ll realize that Ginger is exactly the kind of dog you want representing Chow Down dog food.”

  “You might be right,” Doug agreed smoothly. “Dorothy, what would you like to tell us?”

  The older woman took a moment to gather her thoughts. She looked slowly around the table, her gaze pausing on each of the committee members in turn. “After listening to what other people have to say, I’m afraid maybe MacDuff and I are going to look a little shabby by comparison.”

  “No way!” Chris disagreed.

  A small, satisfied smile lifted Dorothy’s lips. That was just the response she’d been angling for, I thought.

  “Now MacDuff and I, we’re not as young and flashy as some of your other contestants. But I guess you’d have to say that we do have experience on our side. Those of you who go to dog shows, I bet most of you know who MacDuff is from his record in the ring.”

  She stopped and waited for us to nod. Dutifully, most of us did.

  “This dog . . .” Her hand reached over to stroke his head fondly. “He pretty much won everything there was and then some. I retired him at Westminster in February. He’d earned his chance to do nothing but sit in the sun and snore.

  “But funny thing about that. When it came right down to it, that wasn’t what MacDuff wanted. He missed the excitement of being on the road all the time. Retirement just seemed to bore him silly. In a nutshell, that’s why we’re here. I figure I owe this old dog anything he wants that will make him happy. And if one more chance in the limelight will do it, then I’m just pleased to be along for the ride.”

  Wow, I thought, she was good. That appeal had to tug at the judges’ hearts. In her own quiet, unassuming, way, Dorothy had just moved MacDuff up to the top of the list.

  Simone was writing furiously on her notepad. Chris had his laptop open. I couldn’t see the screen but I assumed he was doing the same. It occurred to me that I probably didn’t have to worry about Faith winning the contest. There was no way I was going to be able to top these performances.

  “I’m Larry Kim and this is my wife, Lisa,” Larry said from the other end of the table. Lisa inclined her head slightly. “And this lovely Yorkshire Terrier you see in my arms is Yoda. Others have told you about their dogs’ lofty accomplishments. Of course I could do the same but instead I would rather get right to the point.

  “Yoda loves to eat. Yes, she is a small dog, but don’t let her size fool you. This is a dog who always enjoys a good meal. We feed only Champions dog food in our kennel and Yoda was raised on it. She has been eating, and loving, Champions since she was a tiny puppy.”

  Approval wafted around the table like a smooth wave. The committee was lapping up this p
itch.

  “Recently we were fortunate to receive some free samples. You should have seen Yoda dive right in. I barely had the bag open before she was begging for a morsel to eat.”

  Seated beside her husband, Lisa was nodding as he spoke. I wondered why she didn’t say anything herself. It occurred to me that she was the only one in the room who had yet to speak. Well, except for me.

  “Let’s be honest,” Larry said. “What you’re looking for is an adorable canine representative who loves your product and can sell it to others. Yoda is that dog.”

  Another top-notch appeal. As I listened to my fellow contestants speak, they had me half convinced to vote for them myself.

  “Melanie?” Doug turned to me. “What would you like us to know about Faith?”

  Oh right. My turn. Unfortunately I hadn’t prepared something to say like the rest of the participants clearly had. Now I needed something fast. Something fresh and catchy. A slogan. A sound-bite. An irresistible anecdote . . .

  And my mind was a total blank. I hate it when that happens.

  “Umm . . .” I said, “she’s a Standard Poodle.”

  Doug smiled encouragingly. Cindy nodded. Chris, waiting with fingers poised above his keyboard, was reserving judgment. As for Simone, she already looked bored.

  “The thing about Poodles is . . . that they’re a terrific breed of dog. It’s true of Faith, but I can’t take too much credit because, really, it’s true of all of them. Poodles are just wonderful members of the family. They’re intelligent, they have a sense of humor, they’re empathetic. They’re the perfect pet.

  “Whatever their owner’s lifestyle, they adapt and fit right in. That’s why so many people have owned Poodles over the years. And why others have fond memories of the Poodles they knew when they were children. Poodles make people happy. They’re evocative of everything that’s good about owning a dog.”

  “I see,” said Cindy.

  I don’t think she really saw anything. I think she just wanted to stop my disjointed rambling. And it was probably just as well that she had.