The steward blinked, then laughed.
“Oh, I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “My old laptop used to rename every photo as Screenshot_01.”
Another judge nearby chuckled. “Technology hates dog shows. It’s a documented fact.”
“Right?” Chris said. “Total menace.”
And that was it. They were just buying it. Just like that.
“Alright,” the steward said cheerfully. “Everything else matches. You’re good to move on to measurements.”
Chris leaned down toward me, voice dipping low against my ear.
“Sorry, I thought I was supposed to be Peter.”
I elbowed him. “Peter is the primary handler. I’m handling, so I’m Peter.”
I turned before he could add anything else and headed toward the measurement station, where a folding table, scale, and height stick had been set up. A small line had already formed.
When it was our turn, I crouched beside Pampi’s carrier and unlatched the door.
She blinked up at me, dazed from the car ride and the sudden noise of the event hall. Her ears twitched at the overlapping scents of other dogs and unfamiliar shifters and humans.
She stepped into my hands automatically, trusting, but the moment I set her down on the weighing platform, her body went rigid.
“She hates being woken up,” I muttered. “Just give her a second.”
The scale gave a soft electronic beep. Pampi let out a high-pitched chirp that sliced through the tent like a siren. Every head within a ten-foot radius turned.
Someone snorted. “Dramatic little diva.”
Heat crawled up my neck.
“It’s okay, baby,” I murmured, fishing a treat from my pocket. “Just a few seconds. Look, see? Treat.”
Pampi didn’t care. She trembled so hard it rattled the metal platform.
“Want me to—?” Chris stepped closer, hand halfway raised.
I shot him a warning look. “She doesn’t like strangers touching her.”
He ignored me.
He reached out and brushed his fingers down Pampi’s back, slow and steady. His palm traced the line of her spine with the perfect pressure, hitting the exact spot that always helped her calm down.
To my absolute shock, she stopped shaking. Her tail loosened just a little. She huffed, but she didn’t try to bolt.
“How—?” I asked, staring at him.
He shrugged, like he hadn’t just performed actual magic. “Dogs like me.”
“That’s not—she never—” I stopped, because I had no explanation.
Pampi hated strangers.Hatedthem. And here she was, melting under his hand.
He glanced at me, a small grin tugging at his mouth. “Or maybe she just knows I’m the reliable one.”
I rolled my eyes hard enough to sprain something. “Let’s just finish before she changes her mind.”
