Drop Dead on Recall Read Online Free PDF Page A

van, but the soundtrack in my mind didn’t match the picture. All I could hear was, got rid of Abigail and still got whupped.

8
    My class was first in the ring at 8:30 Sunday morning, so I was back at the fairgrounds early. Pip was enthusiastically sucking cheese out of a hollow sterile bone when I snapped the padlock onto his crate in the calf barn. Then I got Jay and a chair from my van and arrived at the obedience ring in time to warm up and watch one performance before I took my customary three deep breaths and we stepped into the ring.
    We got through all the individual exercises in good shape. Jay’s heeling wasn’t perfect, but I’ve seen uglier. He kept all four feet planted for the stand for examination, letting the judge’s hand touch his head, shoulders, and croup as I stood six feet away and watched. And his recall was snappy, although he forgot to sit in front of me and circled behind me into heel position a little ahead of schedule, losing a couple of points. Unlike Abigail and Suzette and other stellar handlers who strive for perfect 200s, I consider a passing score to be good enough.
    We were on the home stretch, two and a half minutes into the three-minute down-stay, when a baby started to cry somewhere off to my left. Jay works with kids in the Allen County Public Library’s Paws to Read Program, and unhappy children distress him. He stood and turned toward the sound, then looked over his shoulder at me, turned again, lay back down, and let out a long sigh as he rested his chin on his crossed paws and apologized to me with loving brown eyes. I longed to touch him, and to tell him that there was always the next trial, and did just that as soon as the judge sent us back to our dogs. Compassion outranks competitiveness in my book.
    Connie Stoppenhagen stopped by to see how I’d done. She looked spectacular as ever, her pale lime jacket setting off her strawberry-blonde coloring to full advantage. She was helping me squeeze my folded chair into its canvas bag when I asked, “Do you know who that woman is with the crayon-red hair?”
    Connie gave the chair a final shake and turned to find the object of my curiosity. “Oh, her. Francine something. She’s Pip’s breeder. Abigail introduced us last year.”
    “I saw her in the barn yesterday, looking at Pip. I guess that explains why.” I thought about Francine’s startled reaction to my arrival. “It was kind of odd, though. She had a leash in her hand, and took off when I showed up. I padlocked Pip’s crate after I saw her there.”
    Connie leaned toward me and lowered her voice. “She’s kind of odd. Abigail seemed to get on with her okay, but she’s, I dunno, cold. Sneaky.” Connie adjusted the rubber band holding her entry numbers on her arm and continued. “Peterson, that’s it. Francine Peterson. I’ve heard she’s very competitive, and hard on her dogs if they don’t do well.” She looked at something behind me and raised her chin as if to point. “You have company. Call me later.”
    “Leaving already?” Tom and Drake had come up behind me, and that unsettling flutter went off inside me again when I heard Tom’s voice. I was beginning to get tired of myself.
    “Yep. We’re done. Jay broke the down stay, so we NQ’d.” Meaning we had earned a non-qualifying score.
    “I’m sorry.” He signaled Drake to lie down. When he smiled at me, the tanned skin around Tom’s eyes crinkled into happy lines. “Are you sure you won’t hang around for awhile? We could grab a bite to eat.”
    I swear, I got my tang toungled and started to stutter. “I, uh, …” Get a grip, woman! “I’d love to, but I promised to shoot a friend’s kids this afternoon.”
    Tom’s eyes sparkled. “Is that legal?”
    I smiled. “It is when you use a camera.”
    “Ah, so you’re a wildlife photographer.”
    I could fall for this guy if I wasn’t careful. Nice rear view and a sense of humor to boot. He went on. “I should have Drake’s portrait