1
Crouching near the start line, Ashanti Wright peered up at the white board on the judges’ table, examining the rankings for today’s event.
She stooped low and whispered into her French bulldog’s pointed ear.
“Listen to me, baby. This title is ours for the taking. Just run your race and don’t let these other doggies distract you.”
She glanced over at the Pekingese who posed the biggest threat to Duchess winning Best in Show. The other pup had been quick through the obstacle course, but Ashanti’s Frenchie was quicker. More agile. And cuter. Plus, she rocked a hot pink faux pearl tiara while zipping through the weave poles. Could the Pekingese do that?
Nope. Don’t think so.
A shadow fell upon Ashanti a second before she heard, “Uh-oh. I know that competitive look. You’re trying towincustomers, not scare them off.”
Her younger sister Kara stood above her, licking a popsicle shaped like a dog bone.
“No reason Duchess can’t win too,” Ashanti countered. “And why are you eating a popsicle made for dogs?”
“The vendor said the ingredients are all natural. It’s not bad.” Kara shrugged as she bit off one end.
“Get back to the booth. You’re supposed to be taking orders forourdog treats, remember?”
“Is the French bulldog ready?” the head judge asked.
“You were born ready,” Ashanti murmured softly as she gave Duchess a final head scratch. She stood and, in a louder voice, said, “Yes, she is.”
This wasn’t exactly Westminster. It wasn’t even an official AKC event. But Ashanti still wanted to win. When it came to Duchess, she had a fierce competitive streak.
The final event was a handler-free run through the seven-apparatus obstacle course. Duchess wasn’t a show dog, but a course similar to this one was part of the regular exercise regimen Ashanti offered at Barkingham Palace, the doggy daycare she’d opened three years ago. A solid performance by Duchess was bound to draw interest from the dog lovers attending today’s Geaux for Fi-Deaux Jamboree.
Thatwas the real reason she was here. Business. Her homemade dog treats had sold out within a half hour, which was why she had Kara now taking orders to ship and helping to drum up new clients for the daycare. Having Duchess take home the Best in Show ribbon would be gravy.
“On your mark,” the judge said. “And go!”
She gave Duchess’s butt a firm pat, and the dog took off, racing through the crawl tunnel and catapulting over the jump bars. Her baby waskillingit. Ashanti couldn’t hide her ridiculously proud grin even if she tried.
She didn’t try.
But her smile faded when she felt a low vibration thump in her chest.
“Oh no,” Ashanti murmured.
The bass was coming from a vehicle that was still several blocks away.
“Not that,” she whispered, her attention swinging from Duchess to the car. “Anything but that.”
But itwasthat. Her stomach dropped at the unmistakable intro to Juvenile’s “Back That Azz Up.”
“Nooo,” Ashanti cried. But it was too late.
Duchess stopped just before reaching the hoop jump and started wiggling her pudgy tail. Her hind legs pumped up and down in time with the music.
Ashanti closed her eyes, expelling a defeated moan.
The laughter that broke out among the onlookers was so loud it drew an even bigger crowd, including Kara, who’d jogged back to the obstacle course. Her younger sister put her hands on her knees and popped her back, mimicking Duchess.
Ashanti cut her eyes at her.
Kara raised both hands. “Don’t blame me!”
