"Come, come, Mister Phujjīdāra. It's show time; let's go!" At this a buoyant Pomeranian came racing around the corner, barking spiritedly. He jumped circles around his handler, Shreya, who grabbed her prized designer bag filled to the brim with treats, brushes, martingale leads, & some spritzer to keep the dog smelling succulent & Indian, all to make sure they would win the dog show today. "Let's us go! Get in the car." The Pomeranian took the passenger seat proudly and barked again. His handler laughed happily & off they drove, windows down with Bollywood music playing loudly.
- - - - - - - - - - -
As Deven stood on the grooming table, Shreya prepared him for his turn in the ring & his golden eyes observed the other dogs the passed by. He missed little: there was that Golden Retriever whose nails could have been better trimmed & filed, the Cavalier who seemed too nervous, & the Doberman who looked very intimidating with his eyes drifting too often towards the innocent Cav. Strong prey drive. He thought to himself.
Shreya gave Deven one last, quick fluff & then set him down on the polished floor. "Are you ready to win, mister? Be your cocky self, you crazy dog. Those judges, they eat you up. Remember: personality, personality. . . personality! Now, prance!" Shreya slipped the martingale over his head & Dev rolled his eyes; he didn't need to be told how to put on a grand show--he'd been in the show business for years. He started to stride lightly to the show ring where the toy breeds were to be gathering, but Shreya wasn't paying attention. She went the opposite way, trying to avoid a collie & its handler who were passing them, causing Deven to slam into the female dog's dark legs. Suddenly finding himself in an awkward position with a dog he didn't know--a woman, no less--with striking, icy blue eyes, he was caught off-guard, highly embarrassed by Shreya's mistake & not at all seeming to be as commanding & debonair as he should be.
