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right.
    â€œFlirting with me does you no good,” I pointed out. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the wrong sex.”
    â€œMy God!” Terry lifted a hand to his mouth and feigned shock. “Is that what it is? I knew there was something—”
    â€œOh, shut up.” I was sorely tempted to hit him again.
    â€œI’d be delighted to, except that would leave you doing all the talking and so far you haven’t said much of anything. Come on, the show’s been open a whole half a day. So what have we learned? What’s new and delicious?”
    Well, now that he mentioned it, not a whole lot. I thought for a minute. “Betty Jean and Edith Jean have a silver Toy puppy that they’re very excited about—”
    â€œBetty Jean and Edith Jean?” Terry sat up. “Tell me those aren’t their names.”
    â€œDon’t make fun. Their mother’s name was Jean.”
    â€œI would never have guessed.” Sarcasm 101. “I guess we should be glad she wasn’t called Maybelline or Magnolia—”
    â€œNobody—I don’t care where they’re from—names a child Magnolia.”
    â€œI think you need to get out more.”
    Quite possibly. “Back to the puppy. Bubba—”
    â€œNo!” Terry snorted in disbelief. Obviously I was nothing more than a continuing source of amusement.
    â€œBubba? ” Laughing, he rolled back and forth on the chaise. In a minute, he was going to roll right off. In a minute, I might be tempted to help him. “This is too good to be true. They actually have a Toy named Bubba?”
    â€œThat’s what I’m trying to tell you. He’s very cute, I saw his pictures. He’s supposed to win his class. Maybe even Winners Dog.”
    â€œPossibly.” Terry stopped laughing and began to pay attention. “Though not if Harry Gandolf has anything to say about it. Scuttlebutt I’ve heard is that his Toy dog is the one to beat.”
    Making preshow predictions was a long-standing tradition among knowledgeable exhibitors. They were usually based half on good PR—make everyone think your dog is going to be the winner, and he’s that much closer to being there—and half on an educated guess that took into account the judge’s preferences as well as the dog’s record and his strengths and weaknesses. Throw in a dash of intuition to round things out, and it was amazing how often the scuttlebutt turned out to be right.
    â€œI guess Wednesday’s judging will be interesting, then. I can’t help rooting for the sisters, though. They seem like nice ladies.”
    â€œWhen they’re not sniping at one another,” said Terry. “Either one alone could just about talk your ear off. Together, they’re enough to drive you half mad. Besides, they had the bad taste to name that poor innocent puppy Bubba. No, I think I’ll put my money on Harry.”
    The sound of a horn, loud and shrill, made us both turn around and look. The noise was coming from the far end of the arena building, where a wide ramp led down to the unloading area. The exhibitors who were showing in agility had long since finished setting up and moved their cars over to the parking lot. A few who had gotten done early were leaving, but there hadn’t been a line on the ramp when Eve and I came out.
    The horn blared again.
    â€œWhat do you suppose that’s about?” I asked.
    Terry was already getting up. “Let’s go see.”
    Eve was on her feet as well, anxious to get moving. I snagged her leash and hurried after Terry who was striding toward the arena. Meanwhile, the horn continued to honk. Even from the other side of the building, the sound made my head pound. Eve had her ears flattened to her head. Inside, the noise must have been deafening.
    Terry walked around the arena, but I went directly into one of the side doors that led to the upper seating