by V. M. Burns
She looked at her watch. “I’ve got about an hour before my trial.”
Dixie was tall and thin. At nearly six feet barefoot, she was a presence to be reckoned with in pumps, especially with her big Dolly Parton hair and mass of jewelry. She was a Southern belle with all that the label entailed. She also had a heart the size of Tennessee and loved poodles. Today, her earrings and the scarf she stylishly wore around her neck declared her love of poodles for anyone who was in doubt.
“I don’t understand how there are so many poodles competing.”
Dixie smiled. “Well, poodles are popular, so there are usually quite a few in practically any competition, but this is a popular show and with so many dogs entered, you stand a real good chance of getting a major.”
I must have looked as baffled as I felt because she chuckled.
She took a deep breath and went into her teaching mode where she spoke slowly to make sure I followed. “In order to get a championship, a dog must get at least two majors, which are wins of three, four, or five points awarded by at least three different judges.”
“What determines the number of points?”
“The number of dogs competing. The greater the number of dogs competing, the greater the number of points. The maximum points you can win is five and there are a lot of poodles entered, so a win here will mean a five-point major.” She looked at me. “You follow?”
I nodded.
“So, the males and females compete separately in seven different classes—Puppy, Twelve-to-Eighteen Months, Novice, Amateur-Owner Handler, by Exhibitor, American-Bred, and Open. Then, all the winners in their class will compete again to determine the best of the winners.”
“Are the males and females still separated?”
She nodded. “Yep. Only the best male ‘Winners Dog’ and the best female ‘Winners Bitch’ receive championship points. The ‘Winners Dog’ and ‘Winners Bitch’ then compete with the champions for BEST OF BREED. At the end of the Best of Breed Competition, three awards are usually given: Best of Breed—the dog judged as the best in its breed category, Best of Winners—the dog judged as the better of the Winners Dog and Winners Bitch, and Best of Opposite Sex—the best dog that is the opposite sex to the Best of Breed winner.”
“Wow!” My head was spinning.
“It’s a lot, but the bottom line is there are a lot of poodles competing, and each day we go through the same thing. So the judges rotate to give us a bit of a break and to allow the dogs the chance to earn their championship points under different judges.”
She gasped as a beautiful silver standard pranced by. “That is one beautiful bitch.”
I’d long since stopped registering shock at hearing the word some used as a vulgarity when applied in its one true context. “How can you tell?” I stared at the silver dog. “I mean, she’s beautiful, but what makes her stand out more than any of these others?”
Dixie smiled. “It’s something about the bone structure, the way she carries herself, the line, and, ultimately, it’s that certain….something that sets her apart.” She shrugged. “You know how sometimes on those reality shows for singing or dancing the most technically talented person isn’t always the person who wins?”
I nodded.
“It’s the same thing. Sometimes there’s just something about a dog that sets it apart.” She shook her head. “You can’t always put your finger on it, but there’s just something special about some dogs and you know it when you see it.”
We talked about poodles for a bit longer and watched a few rounds of judging. I told Dixie about my opportunity to go to the art auction. She clapped and nearly created a faux pas when she shouted, but her timing was excellent. Her reaction was simultaneous with the judge proclaiming the silver poodle Dixie liked as the winner, so her scream coincided with the thunderous applause and shouts from the audience. Dixie was one of the few people who knew how much I wanted to attend the auction, so her response made me feel great.
“I’m so glad for you, although I’m really sorry Jacob broke his ankle. I’ll send him flowers.” She pulled out her cell phone and left a note for herself. When she was done, she put her phone back in her pocket. “Now, when do you leave?”
“Tomorrow.”
“What are you going to do with Aggie?”
I sighed. “I was thinking about boarding her.”
“If Beau and I weren’t going to Gatlinburg, you know I’d take her.” She looked genuinely sad. “Maybe we can just have her stay with the girls. I’m sure Mike won’t mind.”
I laughed. “Your girls are two standard poodles.”
She waved away my objection. “He loves Chyna and Leia. What’s one more?”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think so.”
Dixie protested, but I was firm. Eventually she realized I was sincere. “What about Red?”
“He’s at that TBI workshop.”
“Is he still incommunicado?”
I nodded. “No outside distractions. He gave me a number where I could reach him in case of emergency, but I don’t think this qualifies.”
Dixie hesitated a moment, but then she nodded. “You’re right. I doubt seriously if those TBI guys would consider this an emergency.” She smiled.
I pulled the brochure for Pet Haven from my purse. “Have you heard about this place?”
She took the brochure. “Oh yes. I know several people who board their dogs there. They asked me to come and do a demonstration, but I just haven’t had the time. It’s supposed to be very exclusive.” She looked up from the brochure. “Television? Shiatsu massage?”
I nodded. “I met one of the owners yesterday. It sounds really fancy, but the one thing I liked was the pet cam.” I pointed to it in the brochure. “I can go online and watch Aggie. If I have to leave her someplace, at least it will be nice to watch her.”
“That is a plus.” She folded the brochure and handed it back to me. “I haven’t heard anything negative about them. I believe Monica Jill takes Jac there for doggie day care.” She looked at her watch. “I still have time before I have to judge my first group. Let’s run back to their booth and I’ll grill the owner for you.”
I was ecstatic that Dixie volunteered to go with me, so we hurried out to the vendor area.
Pet Haven’s tent was as elegant as I remembered, but today, instead of Keri Lynn Simpson, a man was there. I almost didn’t realize it wasn’t her. They were both tall with a mane of blond hair. However, his hair was cut shorter. He turned and immediately flashed a smile, which made me wish I’d brought my sunglasses.
He started toward us but stopped a few feet before reaching us. After a long pause, he put his hand over his heart. “Be still my heart.” He patted his chest and then walked up to us and took each of us by the hand. “Please forgive me, ladies, but it’s not every day that angels descend from heaven.” He sighed. “My name is Dallas Simpson. How can I serve you?”
Similar to Keri Lynn Simpson, Dallas Simpson was attractive. He was tall with chiseled good looks, which included a square jaw, cleft chin, and sparkling blue eyes. Unlike Keri Lynn, who was a natural beauty, Dallas’s beauty was anything but natural. He was dark, due to a tan that had most likely come from a bottle or a spray can. His teeth were white, too white to be natural. His hair was too perfectly coiffed to be free of gel, with blond highlights that came from a bottle rather than the sun. He was dressed entirely in white and looked as though he’d just stepped off the cover of a men’s fashion magazine. Everything about Dallas Simpson was packaged for maximum appeal.
Dixie and I both pulled our hands free, and I used all of my mental energy to stop myself from wiping my hand on my pants leg. My mind told me it was oily, even though I knew that wasn’t the case.
“I’m Dixie Jefferson.” Dixie took a step backward to regain a fraction of the personal space Dallas had encroached upon. “My
friend Lilly is interested in boarding her dog, but we have some questions.”
“Certainly.” He smiled. “I’ll be happy to answer any questions you have.” He turned to the table to get one of the brochures, but Dixie stopped him.
“We already have the brochure, and Lilly talked to Keri Lynn yesterday.” Dixie held up the brochure I’d given her earlier.
He nodded. “Keri Lynn’s my wife.”
“Yes, well, I don’t have a lot of time, so let’s get started.” She then grilled Dallas Simpson. She questioned him about everything from the number of workers per dog, the amount of supervised versus unsupervised play my dog would get, as well as their methods for discipline. She got the name of the veterinarian they used in the event of emergencies and the names of three references. She pounded him with so many questions, I almost felt sorry for him…almost. When he’d answered everything to her satisfaction, she gave me a brief nod.
I noticed a bead of sweat had dripped down the side of Mr. Perfect’s face, and his smile looked forced. “I just learned about a business trip I will need to make tomorrow, so I would like to make a reservation for my dog, Aggie.”
Dallas Simpson took down my information and promised the best accommodations for Aggie.
He assured me I could drop Aggie off at any time, including tonight, but I wasn’t ready to part with her quite that soon. Instead, I made arrangements to drop Aggie off at their facility early tomorrow morning. According to Dixie, that was a benefit, because most places wouldn’t allow drop-off or pickup on Sunday.
When we left, I thought I noticed Dallas wiping his brow.
The rest of the afternoon went by far too quickly. I spent the majority of the time watching Dixie judging poodles. She looked confident and self-assured in the ring. She noted every aspect of each dog from the eyes to the tail. She looked at each dog’s teeth and ran her hands through their elaborately cut coats. She took her time with each dog and watched them prance around the ring. She knew what she was looking for, and when the time came to pick a winner, she unwaveringly made her selection.
I left before the end of the trial because I needed to pack and I wanted to spend more time with Aggie. Back at the hotel, I took her for a long walk, careful not to let her roll in anything that would require another bath.
I packed, then ate Chinese takeout and watched a Murder, She Wrote marathon until I fell asleep. I woke once, when my leg was cramped, and realized Aggie had been using my knee as a pillow. It must have been a testament to how tired she was that she barely complained when I moved her to get up to answer the call of nature.
The next morning, I dressed and took Aggie out for her morning constitutional. She looked several times at the suitcase I put in the car, and I’d swear her eyes asked, Where do you think you’re going? Dixie had warned me not to make a big deal of leaving because dogs picked up on our emotions. So I forced a smile and used my Lamaze breathing technique from childbirth to settle my nerves as I drove to Pet Haven.
Dallas Simpson had given me the address, and according to the directions on my phone, it wasn’t far from my hotel. In fact, the entire ride took less than fifteen minutes.
Pet Haven Pet Resort and Doggie Day Care was a new building located a few miles off the next exit off the interstate. I followed an access road until I came to a large gated facility. There was an intercom, and I pushed the button as Dallas had instructed and gave my name. Aggie had been lounging on the back seat, but when I pulled up to the intercom, she immediately took her position at the window, the position she always used to garner a treat whenever I pulled up to a drive-thru window.
“Sorry, girl, this isn’t a drive-thru.”
Aggie wagged her tail expectantly as the gate opened and I pulled through.
She looked so disappointed when we didn’t immediately stop at a window where food was provided that I reached into the glove box and pulled out a dog biscuit I kept for emergencies like this.
As soon as I pulled into a parking space, the front door to the building opened, and a young woman came out to the car to greet us. Initially, I thought it was the owner, Keri Lynn, but a closer look showed me I was mistaken.
“Hello, Mrs. Echosby.”
I tried to hide my surprise. “Hello.”
“I’m Heather.” She beamed. “This must be Aggie.” She reached into the car and petted Aggie, whose tail swung from side to side like the amped-up pendulum on a clock.
“Yes, this is Aggie.”
“May I?” She held her hands out to lift her.
Aggie hurled her six-pound body at the strange woman and licked her face as though she was covered in hot dogs.
I got out of the car and followed them into the building.
“Oh my goodness, you’re a lover, aren’t you?” She struggled to talk without Aggie sticking her tongue in her mouth. “This must be hard to leave such a sweet little dog.”
“It is. I’ve never boarded her before.” I struggled to keep from grabbing Aggie back from her and giving her a hug. Instead, I found myself explaining about Jacob’s broken ankle and the chance to go to Atlanta with my boss.
Heather winced. “A broken ankle sounds painful. I broke my foot when I was a teenager and had to get a metal plate. It still bothers me when the weather gets cold.” She laughed. “The kids used to call me the Bionic Woman. That’s why I named my dog, Steve…for Steve Austin.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you know who they are. That show was a long time ago. You don’t seem old enough to have watched that.”
She laughed. “I used to watch a lot of old television shows with my memaw before she died.”
I must have looked the surprise I felt because she laughed. “MeMaw was my grandmother. She raised me.”
“I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “My parents died when I was young, so it was just MeMaw and me. If you don’t know anything different, then you don’t feel regret.”
Inside, the building looked like a high-class hotel with high ceilings, marble floors, and a waterfall fountain on one wall. I looked around and could easily understand why the prices were as steep as they were. This was definitely a resort.
Heather went to a door at the back wall of the building and pushed a button. There was a buzz and then there was a click. She twisted the handle, opened the door, and held it open for me to precede her. “Dallas…ah, I mean, Mr. Simpson thought you might like a tour.”
Inside the inner sanctum, I followed Heather down a hallway. To the right was a large glass wall where several dogs were running and playing. True to Dallas’s word, there was a worker for each dog, making sure the play remained friendly.
“This is our doggie day care. Many of our guests come to play several days per week.” She walked slowly, with Aggie cuddled up to her chest. She turned a corner, and we passed a grooming salon, the massage room, an indoor pool, and an acupuncture room. At the end of the hall was another door. There was a camera and a fingerprint scanner, which she used to gain admittance.
“Wow! That’s pretty high-tech stuff.”
She smiled and pointed to the cameras that discreetly lined the walls. “Dallas…ah…I mean Mr. Simpson takes great pride in providing the best security for your loved one.”
We entered the boarding area, which was massive.
“These are our guest rooms.” Heather led the way.
There were glass walls on either side of a long corridor. Walking down the halls, I could see into the “rooms.” Each was indeed decorated in a different theme. The Paris Room had a mural of all of the tourist attractions of Paris, including the Eiffel Tower, Arc de Triomphe, and the Louvre Museum. The décor was pink and black with a fancy dog bed that matched the motif.
“As you can see, each suite is decorated to meet your pet’s needs.”
A Yorkshire terrier yipped at us from behind one of the glass wall
s.
We walked past rooms decorated like everything from a British castle to an Alpine ski chalet. At the end of the hall she stopped and opened the door. The theme was a log cabin. It included everything from a fake fireplace to a large faux bearskin rug. The cabin didn’t represent my personal design aesthetic, but Aggie really seemed to love it. She nearly leapt out of Heather’s arms when we entered. It might have had something to do with the large box of toys and treat box that was in the room. Aggie stood on her hind legs and pranced around in a circle like a ballerina.
“What’s this?”
Heather smiled. “We like to welcome all of our special guests with a little gift. Dallas…ah…Mr. Simpson wanted to make sure Aggie had VIP treatment.”
I opened the box. Inside was a blanket, a stuffed toy, and a treat shaped like a dog bone, which had Aggie barking and pawing at my hands. I turned to Heather. “I don’t give—”
She held up a hand. “It’s a homemade treat we make in house.”
“In house?”
She nodded. “We have a commercial kitchen where we prepare special meals for some of our guests with dietary restrictions. Dallas…ah…Mr. Simpson has the chef make organic treats that are not only veterinarian-approved but safe for human consumption.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re kidding.”
She shook her head. “Go ahead, take a bite.”
I stared at the bone-shaped treat and then sniffed it. I contemplated taking a bite, but I couldn’t get over the shape. Instead, I held it out to Aggie, who nearly snatched it out of my hand. She dragged the bone to the rug in front of the fake fireplace and lay down. The treat between her paws, she gnawed on it.
I stood, watching her for several moments. Aggie was so engrossed in her treat she didn’t seem to care I was leaving. I picked her up, still clutching the treat, and gave her a hug. However, she wasn’t the least bit interested. I put her down and she resumed her previous position, only this time she turned so her back was to me.
I slunk out of the room.
Heather followed me and turned to me once the door was closed. “We find the treat a good distraction for drop-offs.” She looked at her watch, a cheap Mickey Mouse trinket with a bright neon-pink band. She frowned.
