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 24
Contestants
and spectators loitered about the parking area and got in each other's
way. Sporting gossip and meteorological commentary filled the
air.
"There's good competition today," Nick said. "But none are
better than Concorde."
We watched several contestants perform but none of them impressed
Nick. He pointed out little faults in each dog.
"Tail wasn't straight enough. And did you see him flinch when
the gun was fired?" he said.
"I suppose one must know what to look for," I said.
"I'm glad you're not a judge," he joked. I think he was
joking. It was obvious to me that he still hadn’t seen my
true sporting nature. He was about to.
"So am I," I said. "I couldn't stand sitting on a horse all
day."
"It's our turn next," Nick said, petting Concorde. The dog
rippled with energy and had the confident look of a first-rate hunting
dog.
"Where's Al?" Nick asked.
"I don't know," I said. "I haven't seen him."
"Never mind," Nick said. He mounted his horse. "See
you in the winner's circle."
He rode to the starting area. Concorde trotted several paces
ahead. When they hit the field Concorde bolted across the
tall grass. Nick followed in full gallop. Concorde
was on to a scent. He sprinted toward a clump of tall weeds
then froze with his nose pointed toward the ground and his tail at a
perfect ninety-degree angle. Nick rode to his dog and
dismounted. Although he was quite some distance away, I could
see his grin. He took out his pistol and fired a blank into
the air. Concorde remained totally still as a quail flew
off. Nick gave Concorde the signal to move and the audience
greeted them with applause. A perfect performance.
Nick petted Concorde and started back. Then a disturbance
broke out behind the spectators. All of the other dogs left
their masters and ran in the same direction as if they were all on to a
scent.
"Hey, what's going on?" someone asked. He jumped onto his
horse and took off after the dogs. Everyone else mounted and
followed. Concorde joined the chase. James pulled
up in the Rolls. He left the driver's seat and opened the
rear door in one fluid motion.
"The game is afoot," I said, climbing into the back seat.
James closed the door and slid behind the wheel.
"Tally ho, James!"
© 2008 David Biagini