Paws, page 10
I hug my notebook to my chest and wonder what sleepovers are like.
I throw Kevin’s ball for him, a small throw, underarm, the ball going straight to his mouth, and this time he catches it perfectly. “Yes!” I say, shaking my clenched fists in triumph. Kevin trots over and lets me take Ned’s pink ball from his mouth. Ned saw me playing with it after school yesterday but didn’t ask for it back, so I wonder if he’s forgotten that it’s the one I took from his room.
It’s ten minutes to 9 am. Kevin and I have been up since 5 am, but Mum wouldn’t let us come outside to practise last-minute training until 7.30, so we trained in the hall until then. Because I couldn’t throw the ball far inside, I did small throws, and that’s when Kevin started to catch the ball every single time.
“Good boy,” I say to Kevin, rubbing my cheek against his face. In return he licks me on the tip of my nose, which makes me laugh. “Shall we make the throw a bit bigger this time?” His ears rock forwards and then he backs up a bit, tail wagging, his front legs bent and ready. I throw the ball up and he catches it again and then brings it straight back to me. “You did it!” I tell him, and this time I wrap my arms around his small soft body and hug him. He rests his chin on my shoulder and licks my ear, the lap lap of his tongue as tickly as the wet feel of it.
“I hope Mum and Ned come out soon so we can leave.” It isn’t far to Jessops Lake Showground, maybe a five-minute journey in the Mitsubishi Outlander, but Mum said “parking will be a nightmare” and I think she means there will be a lot of cars. “Registrations open at 8 am, that’s what the poster and the website and all the flyers said, and we can’t be late.” I grind my back teeth together and then Kevin licks me faster, pulling away from my hug and licking my face. “You’re so silly,” I tell him.
I hear a click and voices and then the yap yap of a small dog, and I look over at 9 Cantering Court to see Vinnie charge across the road. Kevin bounds over to him and they meet in the middle of the road and start growling and jumping up, paws batting each other.
“Vinnie!” Derek calls, jogging down his drive and over to the dogs, who have made a circle with their bodies just like before, sniffing each other’s bottoms. I don’t step off the grass edge of my garden because Mum says I can’t ever go onto the road without her, no matter what.
“Hey Alex,” Derek says as he bends over and clips a black lead onto Vinnie’s red collar. He walks over and Vinnie and Kevin follow, still sniffing and smelling and pawing each other.
“Hey, Derek,” I answer. “Are you going to PAWS?” I see Mindy and Wilma coming out of the black door of number nine, and Mindy waves and Wilma says hello before they climb into the blue Volkswagen on the driveway.
“Yep. Mum reckons parking will be a nightmare,” Derek says.
“My mum said exactly the same thing.”
“Are you leaving soon too?”
I turn back to my house but neither Ned nor Mum comes out the screen door. “I think so.”
I hope so.
“Cool,” Derek answers. “Well, see you there then. Bye, Kevin.” He leans over and pats Kevin’s head and Vinnie gives Kevin a quick yap yap as they walk away and climb into the back of their car. The engine grumbles as Wilma starts it up, and I crouch beside Kevin, my fingers hooked into his collar so he doesn’t run in front of the car. I wait until it rolls off the driveway and disappears slowly around the corner.
When I can no longer hear the engine, I straighten and head back inside, tucking the pink ball in the pocket of my blue shorts. As the screen door bangs shut behind me, I hear Mum knocking on Ned’s door.
“Ned, we have to go now,” she says, her words coming out slow and a bit angry. I edge to the corner and peer round to see her standing with her hands on her hips outside Ned’s room. “Ned!” she bellows and I startle. Kevin sits at my feet, his back pressed against my shins.
“I’m coming!” I hear Ned yell back from behind his closed door.
“You’d better, because you know how much today means to your brother.” Mum turns then and when she sees me she spreads her arms and smiles, lots of her white teeth showing. “Hello, my superstar son,” she says, clasping her hands in front of her blue, long-sleeved shirt. “Are you ready to go? Teeth, socks, shoes?”
“Is Ned ready? We have to go now because Derek and Mindy and Wilma have already left.” My cheeks feel hot even though it’s not a hot day again today and I think it’s because inside I’m nervous and excited and scared that we’re going to be late.
“Don’t you worry about Ned. I’ll have him ready.” She gently places both her hands on my shoulders and I don’t mind or wiggle them off. “Now, you go finish getting ready and I’ll grab some water bottles, got it?”
I nod and do as she says, Kevin beside me the whole time – sitting by the door when I brush my teeth, waiting by my bedroom door as I find my favourite blue socks in my bottom drawer, and standing beside me as I cram my feet into my trainers, the laces already done up so I don’t have to do them.
Mum hands me a small backpack. “Pop this on your back today. Inside are two bottles of water for you and one for Kevin, along with his water bowl. You’re going to need it.” She grins and winks, and this time I like the wink so I smile back.
“Right, go hop in the car, it’s already open. I’ll get Ned.” She says the last words through gritted teeth and then strides down the hall to his door, her flip-flops making more of a booming sound on the wooden floor than the usual slap slap.
As she thumps on his door, which I know she does with the side of her fist because I’ve heard that sound before, and shouts his name, I grab Kevin’s lead from the hook, fill up my pockets with dog treats and hop out the screen door to the car. I open the back door and Kevin leaps inside and immediately lies down and starts licking his privates. I sit next to him on the soft seat and my heart judders and my hands shake. Right now I can hardly feel the strain in my right thigh, because finally, we’re on our way to PAWS.
The digital clock on the black dashboard flicks to 9.43 just as Mum shuts down the engine. The stench of Ned’s deodorant or whatever it is he’s wearing burns the inside of my nostrils and I shove open the door, sticking my head out and sucking in as much fresh air as I can. Music vibrates and rumbles close by, accompanied by shouts and laughter, barking and yapping, and the smell of smoke and barbecued food.
I take in deep breaths through my nose and release them through my mouth, but not because I’m angry or sad or anything like that. I’m so excited my head and chest feel like they might burst. I only ever feel like this at Christmas and on my birthday.
Ned’s door opens and he steps out, his trainers looking even whiter on the bright green grass than I’ve ever seen before. He straightens and looks at me as I shut the car door behind me and grip onto Kevin’s blue lead with my other hand.
“All right, Al,” he says, smoothing a palm over his already sleek hair. “You and Kevin ready for this?”
I nod, even though I’m not completely sure we are. Right now I can’t stop looking at Ned and his gelled hair and his smart red shirt and jeans. He looks different today – like Ned, but not like Ned.
“What?” he asks, his neck and cheeks turning a bit red, like his shirt. “What?” he asks again, this time making two little lines between his eyebrows as he frowns at me and pats down his hair at the back.
“I think you look really cool,” I say, which makes me think of Derek and how that’s his favourite word, because I do think Ned looks awesome today, more awesome than he’s ever looked.
Ned’s face changes, his frown disappearing and his eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiles. “Cheers, bro,” he says and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“Right, you two,” Mum says, shutting the car boot. “We need to get over to Registrations pretty sharp.”
“Come on, Kevin,” I say, my tummy dipping and rising and my hands trembling a little bit, and we set off behind Mum, weaving between the cars. There are hundreds of them, all parked in rows as far as I can see in every direction.
I hope we can find our car later when we have to leave.
It took us ten minutes of sitting in traffic to make it to the car park entrance, where adults in bright green vests waved at us to turn right, and then we drove for more minutes following more adults in bright green vests waving us on, until eventually one last adult pointed to where we had to park the car. Mum turned off the radio so she could concentrate, and me and Ned and Kevin stayed quiet because sometimes Mum says rude words in the car when she has to concentrate.
And now I can see that Jessops Lake Showground doesn’t look like Jessops Lake Showground today.
There’s a long row of huge tents set up at the bottom of the car park, maybe more than ten – I can’t count because there’s so much noise and activity and my brain can’t focus on one thing – and people and dogs are EVERYWHERE. Children and adults and puppies and dogs of all shapes and sizes and breeds I’ve never even seen or read about are all heading towards the tents or are already inside the tents, standing and waiting in groups and lines.
I’m sure my heart has never beat this hard before, and I think Kevin is just as excited because he keeps sniffing at other dogs as they pass, gently tugging my arm this way and that, but also looking up at me as if to make sure I’m still there.
But I’ll never leave Kevin.
“You okay with all the noise and people?” Mum asks as we near one of the beige tents with a sign saying REGISTRATIONS in big black letters hanging over the entrance, the Chinese Crested Dog picture at the beginning and end of the sign. The music and voices are louder here, and there are lots of people crowded into this tent, all talking, their dogs on leashes sniffing other dogs, cocking their legs and squatting, sitting and scratching their ears, jumping up at their owners . . .
My eyes can’t take it all in at once. My emotions are whirling inside me, making me feel like I might cry or laugh or shout out loud, but I keep them there, squeezing Kevin’s lead as hard as I can until my fingers and wrist hurt, my other hand clinging to the backpack strap over my shoulder.
I feel Mum’s hand enclose mine, and Ned’s hand on my shoulder.
“Alex? All good?” Mum asks.
I nod. I don’t know if the noise and people will be okay, but I know this is where Kevin and I need to be.
Ned scoops up Kevin, who I realise is standing with his paws on my thighs, and kisses him on the nose before handing him to me. I take Kevin, inhaling deeply as I hug him close to my chest. His soft fur makes me feel calmer, but he’s not licking me at the moment, just resting his head on my shoulder, his ear like velvet against my cheek.
“Okay,” Mum says. “So, I think we have to join this line and speak to the lady sitting at the desk over there.”
There are adults in red T-shirts standing at the edge of the tent. One lady with darker skin than mine, and long dark hair about the same colour as mine, holds a clipboard and is looking right at me. I quickly move my eyes away and then, through a gap between all the people, notice the lady Mum must be talking about. She’s older than Mum and has glasses and grey hair and she’s wearing a red T-shirt too. She’s holding a pen and is writing things down on a piece of paper and handing other different coloured bits of paper to each person as they reach her table. And then the people take their pieces of paper and move to the back of the tent where they are ushered through small doors and walkways and into the main part of the showground – into PAWS.
I’m scared my heart will beat so fast it will get tired too quickly, because now I can feel it drumming in my neck and against Kevin’s body. But Kevin doesn’t move, sitting still as a statue in my arms, and I keep hugging him gently, scritching and scratching his back with my fingernails, my other hand under his bottom, holding him up.
And then we’re next, standing in front of the grey-haired lady, who’s sitting at a white table that’s covered in neat piles of paper.
“Hey there!” she says. “Welcome to PAWS Dog Show! Are you entering your pooch into a contest today?”
I nod.
“And what contest would you like to enter?”
I stare at her, my brain trying to remember the right words, the words I practised last night as I brushed Kevin with my special glove brush.
The lady stares back, a friendly smile on her face, her pen poised above a piece of paper that has a grid on it with four columns and lots and lots of writing.
“Alex?” Ned says in a low voice. “Do you want me to tell her?”
I shake my head because my brain has found the words, though my voice only comes out as a whisper. “Obedience.”
“Okay . . . ” She looks down at her papers, flipping through until she finds one with OBEDIENCE printed across the top. “Oh, honey, that contest is full up.”
Seriously? Full up?
She looks back up at me. “Do you have another choice?”
I frown and say, “Tricks,” but still in a whisper.
“Okay . . . ” she says again and finds the piece with TRICKS on the top. And then she shakes her head and I’m starting to feel strange and Kevin is feeling heavier in my arms.
“I’m afraid that’s full up too,” she says. “You’ve chosen two of the most popular contests.”
Mum puts her arm around me, and I concentrate on the softness of her shirt against my neck. Kevin adjusts his head and puts his snout under my chin, pressing it upwards gently.
I hear the lady say, “If you’d come earlier then you might have made it in time,” but I don’t look at her or respond because I know she’s right.
Everything me and Kevin have been practising, the sitting and the staying and the spinning, and even the catching of his ball this morning, has all been a waste of time.
And now, I will never get a trophy.
“Did you have any other choices, honey?” the lady asks.
“What do you think, Alex?” Mum asks, and I don’t think anything because my brain has stopped, completely stopped. All the noises from before, the voices and the laughing and the barking and yapping and whining and cheering . . . they’ve all become a low buzz in my ears and everyone around me seems to have faded into the background and my feet don’t feel like they’re standing on the floor. The only thing that I can focus on is the feel of Kevin’s soft fur and the gentle movement of his chest and sides as he breathes in and out.
Everything is ruined.
All because Ned made us late.
“Can you tell us what contests aren’t full up?” Mum asks, and the lady says, “Sure,” and then I hear the flicking of paper as she searches through her pile.
“Okay, we have . . . Smallest and Biggest, so no, neither of those seem right . . . ” More flicking of paper. “We have Best Outfits . . . nope. We have Fluffiest and – oh, here’s a good one, we have Happiest.”
I glance at the lady, letting my eyes find and focus on her wrinkly face again. She looks back at me with that same friendly smile, and I notice a splodge of her pink lipstick on her front teeth.
“He does look like one happy dog,” she says, her eyes travelling down to Kevin and then back up to me. “What do you think?”
I draw my head back and Kevin does the same, and I stare into his brown eyes as he stares into mine.
“Kevin’s definitely a happy dog,” Ned says on my right.
“I second that,” Mum adds on my left.
“What do you think, Kevin?” I ask, still whispering, and he gives me two long licks across my nose. I nod at him and then at Mum. “Okay, we’ll enter that one.”
“Awe-some,” the old lady says, drawing out the word in a sing-song voice.
She writes something on the piece of paper and then hands me two rectangles of purple card with “30” written on them in thick black ink.
“These are your entrant numbers, so don’t lose them. Your contest takes place in Arena 4 at 11.30, so get there ten minutes early. Okay?”
I nod and take the card, not sure if I’ll remember everything she just said, and Mum thanks her and pushes me gently towards one of the doorways at the back of the tent. I cling to Kevin as we step from the clear plastic under our feet and back onto soft grass, and then I see it.
The PAWS Dog Show.
I have never seen Jessops Lake Showground as busy as it is now, and there is so much to see in every direction. We step forwards slowly and I place Kevin on the ground, gripping onto his leash as tight as I can. Dogs and their human families walk this way and that, crossing each other’s paths, and I wonder how everyone isn’t crashing into each other.
Voices come out from speakers sitting atop posts, announcing the day’s schedule and the contest times and where we can buy food and drink, and where to meet Australia’s biggest dog and rainbow poodles and police dogs, and where to sign up to adopt a dog . . .
And my ears and brain can’t keep up.
I take in some deep breaths and follow Mum as she weaves through the passing people and pets until we come to a signpost with seven handwritten names and pictures: Food, Toilets and Stalls point to the right, and Displays, Attractions and Arenas to the left. The other sign, Exit, points back the way we just came. Mum turns and leans down to speak in my ear.
“Where do you want to go first?”
I look into her eyes and grind my back teeth together, thinking about what I’d like to see, but I don’t know because there’s so much to remember and my brain still isn’t working quickly enough.
Mum tucks her hair behind one ear and raises her eyebrows, and then she nudges Ned, who’s texting on his mobile phone beside me. “Really?” she asks him.
“It’s okay, I’m finding out something,” he says with a sideways smirk, like the ones Derek does with his lips.
Mum shakes her head. “Whatever, just please don’t be on that thing all day, okay?”
Ned nods, his eyes still on his phone, and then he switches it off and puts it in his pocket. He narrows his eyes at me and asks, “Why don’t we head over to the giant dog display? They’ve got Saint Bernards and Irish wolfhounds, apparently.”
