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GINA
“Doesn’t the team already have a fundraiser?” My hand is on the back of my award-winning, white standard poodle, and I slide the clippers methodically over his haunch, around the base of his tail, trimming his fur smooth to the skin.
I’m grooming him in the continental style, which is a favorite among judges of the official American Kennel Club dog shows, and I’m at the trickiest part of the process—the matching pom poms on each of his hipbones.
Spanky is an old pro when it comes to all of this. He was bred to be a winner, and so far, he’s unbeatable in the “non-sporting group,” which is totally inaccurate as Poodles were originally bred to retrieve water fowl.
Still, winning this competition will put him on track for the national dog show in Pennsylvania, where he has a strong chance at landing Best in Show for the first time ever. The thought makes me zippy with excitement.
After years of working with breeders, training championdogs, and even judging local shows, it’s about time I had a Best in Show winner.
I don’t think people think less of Spanky or me because we’ve never won the coveted top prize, but it would strengthen their opinions.
“They have a family skate night, and the welcome back parade…” My cousin Haddy, who’s like a sister to me, leans against the ceramic-tile counter in my grooming studio, counting on her fingers as she watches me work.
We converted the she-shed behind our two-story bungalow in Los Feliz into my workspace after we moved here.
Our third roommate and cousin Maverick didn’t care. He’s a star hockey player with the LA Champions, and once hockey season begins, we’re lucky to see him at all outside the arena.
“None of those are fundraisers,” Haddy continues.
I take a break from concentrating on Spanky’s butt to put my hand on my hip and straighten my back. Being a champion dog groomer is a lot harder than it looks. It’s precise and careful and occasionally back-breaking work.
“Hand me those small scissors, Hads.”
Haddy pushes off the wall and goes to my cabinet of supplies to fetch the sharp, surgical-steel grooming scissors.
“They’re all community outreach, but the owners want something to raise money for the children’s hospital.” She hands me the scissors and returns to her spot. “It’s great publicity, and it dovetails nicely with their hockey clinic for kids.”
Squinting one eye, I look up at her from where I’m bent over, trimming a stray curl. “Sounds like they’re getting a little help from a publicity pro.”
Haddy grew up a pageant girl and along with her winscame appearances at every fundraiser in LA. Big or small, she’d be there smiling and waving in an evening gown and tiara.
She earned alotof scholarship money doing it, which she used to pay for her master’s degree in aerobiology. People are always so surprised that she can be so pretty and also be a scientist.
Now she’s a mom and engaged to Mav’s teammate Gavin Knight. She left her pageant days behind, and it looks like now she’s get her sights set on team publicist.
By contrast, I am deep in the world of dogs, and the most hockey I do is attending Mav’s games every Thursday they’re in town.
“Gav asked for my help brainstorming ideas.” Her eyes are sparkling, and I can tell she’s already got one. “This is where you come into it.”
“And I thought you were out here because you missed me.”
As an engagement present, Gavin bought the house across the street, and my favorite cousin moved in with him. Still, she’s over here almost all the time.
“I do miss you!” She pretends to be defensive, but the truth is, she’s in heaven playing house with her new baby girl and her hot hockey fiancé.
I’m planning their Halloween wedding, and I’m contemplating an Alice in Wonderland theme, since they’re doing everything backwards.
Haddy has not approved that suggestion.
“I know.” I stand, putting a hand on my hip as I pass the scissors back to her. “Tell me how I come into a hockey team’s fundraiser. I’m dying to know.”
Her smile gets bigger, and she’s practically bouncing on her toes. “Hockey Hunks and Hounds!”
My brows rise, and I tilt my head to the side before returning to Spanky’s butt. “And that means…”
