Little Miss Hellhound (nanowrimo2022)

Chapter 8

It was only after we started lining up did i learn the grooming was done at the requests of the owners. The Bradleys ordered a full service package, ordering Begal's nails painted and for me to have a physical. They probably figured i didn't have much of a chance against these show dogs, but wanted me to be comfortable. Begal told me she was only checked for worms and other diseases rather than having the urine test. She told me the 'masters' sometimes check the dogs for substances they put in their food and water to make them stronger and smarter. The sneaky show had be drug tested. Honestly, I don't blame them. I look like a behemoth with these muscles. Like an actual hellhound. Straight out of the movies. But I guess it came back negative (that'd be a cheap shot on the demon's part) and here I am.

We were lined up and led out slowly to an enthusiastic audience. Probably the other members of this SDS kennel club. There were more people than I thought, but the acoustic treatment nullified much of the noise. Less of an echo, more of the sound I hear when I put my headphones on. It was kind of unsettling, honestly. But I couldn;t think about that. I had a contest to win. Except that it wasnt all of us. The first round was the inspections, just as Begal said. The nail paint on her was gone when I woke up. I guess that part was just for pictures. The perfumes, oil, and other polish had all disappeared. Back to our natural coats and scents, albeit very clean and tidy. I didn't need much work in grooming, so I felt even more confident. Trust me. There's no feeling like waking up, looking in the mirror, and knowing you woke up hot. It felt just like that.

Introducing round one. We have more than the usual amount of participants, so bear with us while we split the inspection into two groups. Remember they are all judged the same, and only one winner will be declared between the groups. We just want to make sure you all have a good look at them each. In round one, we have our reigning champion, Spicey Bite, the pure german shepherd. Led by her handler, Clarice. She paused to let the audience clap. That stupid dog even took a bow, making them cheer even louder. She knows how to play a crowd, but I know fakers when I see them.

Next, one of our champion beagles, the bite-sized Begal!

The audience was even louder this time. Mr Bradley was louder than I expected a man of his age to be. Even though I was sitting right next to him, I knew his cheers were audible above the others. Begal told me he was an opera singer. It shows. Mrs Bradley was leading Begal, who still stood as regal as when we last saw each other this morning. I wondered if it hurt to keep that pose up.

Begal is certainly a favorite. This will be her last show, along with Mrs Bradley's, our oldest member. The audience clapped again as Mrs Bradley bowed best she could. Next up, we have Call Back, another full sized beagle and also brought by her handler Clarice, led by her subordinate, Thomas. Call Back didn't take a bow, but damn he knew how to ham it up. The audience went wild for him. I bet a lot of these people bet on him since he was the favorite. Kick his ass, Begal. Or me.

I tuned out of the announcements for the others. I remembered enough names for now. Spicey Bite was constantly eyeing Begal and Call Back. Call Back could hardly keep his eyes off Begal. I really hate the energy that guy gives off. I'd make him an outside dog if he were mine. They started their inspections, the announcer was giving off casting like it was a game of golf. There was the occasional clap and singing of praises, but I had no idea how they were being scored. I didn't watch Westminster that often. But I knew enough to know they'd be judged on the patterns of their fur, their coat and how healthy it was, how they stand and how straight they can stay, how still they can stay, and how they parade themselves around in a fancy little circle when it's all done. Most of those things are probably out of order, but that's the jist of it. As they were inspecting Begal, they complemented how perfectly aligned the spots on her fur were. I guess presentation really was her strong suit. It would certainly carry her further than her stubby legs for the rest of the contest. She kept herself still as a statue, even the judges couldn;t find anything to straighten or write down. And when Mrs Bradley paraded her in the circle (she was surprisingly spry, too, for an old lady, much different from the confused grandma I saw riding the train) and led her backstage. Begal didn't look at me, since she was still putting on the show. Some of the dogs in my group complimented her. High praise considering they were keeping character and trying to maintain proper appearances. I tried too, but not too hard. I don't have a chance, I keep telling myself.