Free Live and Let Growl by Laurien Berenson Page A

experienced exhibitors to be well aware of where they stand in the day’s hierarchy of entries. The judge’s opinion merely becomes confirmation of what they already knew—or at least suspected.
    The action in the show ring might be the face of a dog show, but the grooming area is its heart. So that was where Faith and I went first.
    There’s something about the early morning buzz of energy at a show that always makes my senses tingle. People and dogs alike are busy. Everyone has a place to be and a job to do. But there’s also a special zing in the air. Every dog show is a new adventure. And now, even though I wasn’t showing myself, I couldn’t wait to get started.
    Faith’s show days are long behind her but she remembered the drill. Head up and tail wagging as she took in the pavilion’s sights and sounds, the Standard Poodle trotted along happily at my side. When I paused at the entrance to the handlers’ room, looking around to see where the Poodles were set up, it was Faith who seemed to know, almost instinctively, which direction to head.
    Or maybe she just smelled the hairspray.
    The jumble and clutter of the grooming room was as familiar as it was welcoming. Exhibitors piled their crates on top of each other, nudged their rubber-matted grooming tables into the closest possible proximity, and left only slender aisles between setups. Tack boxes balanced on top of coolers. Storage space was any available crevice. The low hum of dozens of blow dryers served as customary background noise.
    Everyone likes to be surrounded by friends, and dog show exhibitors tend to cluster by breed in the grooming area. So as soon as I spied a trio of Miniature Poodles standing on a row of rubber-matted tables, I knew we were going the right way. A moment later, Bertie came into view. Enviably statuesque with long, fiery red hair, my sister-in-law wasn’t hard to spot—even in the midst of all this canine chaos.
    Years earlier, when Bertie and I had first met, she’d been near the beginning of her handling career. Struggling to build a name for herself and to make a living, Bertie had had to accept any handling assignment that was offered. Now, however, she’d reached the point where she could afford to pick and choose among the opportunities that were presented to her.
    Like most successful professional handlers, Bertie specializes in those breeds whose looks and traits she find most appealing. My sister-in-law has always had an affinity for the Corgis, Shelties, and Shepherds of the Herding Group. But no one related to Aunt Peg could resist the lure of the Poodle breed for long.
    Not that Bertie had ever had a great deal of choice in the matter. As I recalled, Aunt Peg had simply nudged the handler under her ample wing, then set about teaching Bertie all there was to know about presenting the three varieties of Poodles to Aunt Peg’s own impeccable standard.
    Considering that I’d had a several year head start on a similar education, you might think that I’d have been able to offer Bertie some pointers as well. But while I still struggled to scissor lines that were smooth as glass, or to spray up a topknot so that it looked entirely natural while standing straight up in the air, Bertie had effortlessly absorbed every nugget of information that Aunt Peg offered and then deftly gone on to create stylish trims that were all her own.
    I have no idea how she accomplished that. In fact, if I hadn’t liked Bertie so much I might have been a little bit resentful about it. Possibly even more than a little.
    Today, however, the fact that Bertie had added Poodles and several other Non-Sporting breeds to her roster, made my life easier. Not only did it mean that I knew where to look for her, it also ensured that she would be grooming near my great dog show friends, top Poodle handler Crawford Langley, and his assistant, Terry Denunzio.
    â€œThank God you’re here!”