The Bark Before Christmas Read Online Free PDF Page B

stepping stone for the big specials dogs, it didn’t pay to take anything for granted. Every judge has a different opinion, and every dog is capable of having a bad day.
    â€œPeg waylaid me when I came out of the ring,” Sondra told me. “She’s marching around the show like a woman on a mission.”
    â€œGood,” I said. “That’s just what I wanted her to do. She’s supposed to be drumming up business for the Howard Academy Christmas Bazaar. Did she tell you about the photo booth?” I reached over and scratched underneath the Westie’s chin. “Can’t you just picture Kiltie with a big Christmas bow around his neck? He’d look adorable.”
    â€œYou don’t have to sell me on the idea,” Sondra said with a laugh. “Poppy already made me promise that I’d bring him.” Poppy was Sondra’s daughter, a quiet sixth grader who excelled at reading and harbored a fervent dislike of math. “Plus I volunteered to help sell raffle tickets. So we’ll definitely be there.”
    â€œExcellent. Speaking of Poppy, where is she? Did she come to the show with you today?”
    I knew that Sondra’s daughter was one of Kiltie’s most enthusiastic supporters. When Poppy came to my schoolroom for tutoring, we often began our sessions with five minutes of dog talk. Rehashing the recent show results and chatting about Kiltie’s accomplishments had a way of making the math problems that followed seem slightly more palatable.
    â€œNo, she’s with her father today.” Sondra’s gaze shifted away. “I don’t know if you heard? My husband and I have separated.”
    I gulped, feeling like an idiot. That was one of the problems with being at Howard Academy only part-time; it was difficult to keep up with all the news. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to put my foot in it.”
    â€œDon’t worry, you didn’t. These things happen. And in our case, it’s been coming for a while. Jim and I are trying our best to keep things amicable. You know, for Poppy’s and Kiltie’s sakes.”
    â€œI’m sure that makes things easier for her,” I said as Sondra turned to go. “I’ll see you next week at the bazaar. And good luck in the Group!”
    Augie, finally fully brushed, was now standing up on his table. Working under Sam’s watchful eye, Davey was using a pair of curved scissors to smooth and round the hair on the Poodle’s front puffs.
    Sam glanced my way. “Toys must be almost finished by now. Why don’t you go up to the ring and watch our new judge sort out some Minis? See what you think of him. I’ll keep an eye on Kev.”
    â€œOn my way,” I said. “I’ll pick up Davey’s armband, too.”
    I hadn’t even gone ten feet when Bertie came flying past me. Dodging between crates and tables she was racing back toward the setup with the hapless Finnish Spitz in tow.
    â€œQuick!” she cried, gesturing toward a male Miniature Poodle, who was standing on one of her tables, prepped and ready to go to the ring. “Put him back in his crate. He’s not here!”
    â€œWhat . . . ?” Surprised, I turned around and followed her back to the setup.
    Sam reacted more quickly than I did. In a single smooth motion, he swept the Mini off the tabletop with one hand and opened a nearby crate with the other. He tucked the dog neatly inside and turned the latch. Seconds later Sam was back at Augie’s table, standing once more beside Davey and looking as if nothing unusual had occurred.
    Totally confused, I looked back and forth between Bertie and Sam. I had no idea what had just happened.
    Bertie had devoted an hour that morning to brushing, trimming, and spraying the Mini dog. I’d watched her do it. Tossed back into a crate like that, the dog’s topknot would be knocked askew, his ear