Style, you
either have it or you
don't. And if you have it, you have it
all the time.The Rogue Goes to the Dogs
by Tux Toledo
Page 5
I
followed him into the barn. I was surprised to find a
beautiful office oozing with wood paneling and leather-covered
furniture. Pictures of dogs covered the walls. Nick
sat down behind a huge dark wooden desk.
"Have a seat," he said. "Would you like a drink?"
He leaned back and opened a small refrigerator.
"Wouldn't happen to have a Bass Ale, would you?"
"What about a Coors?" he countered.
"I'll pass."
He pulled a beer from the fridge.
"See those ribbons?" he said, nodding toward a cluster of ribbons on
the wall. "Concorde and I won all of those. Trouble
is, we haven't won anything in four months."
"In a slump?"
"It's more than a slump. You saw Concorde perform out
there. You saw how easily he found that quail."
"Yes."
"Well, in the last three field trials we've entered he hasn't found a
thing."
"Maybe there weren't any quail to be found," I said.
"The last three field trials were single field events. That
means each contestant uses the same field. Quail are planted
in the field before each dog goes out. There were quail out
there, Mr. Churchill."
"I see."
"The worst part is, he picks up a scent, goes to it, and
points. When I get there, there's no bird. Nothing
at all."
"Nothing?"
© 2008 David Biagini