Chow Down (6 page)

“We're missing a participant,” Dorothy pointed out. “I guess Ben doesn't appreciate this opportunity as much as the rest of us do.”

“Now Dorothy, don't go putting words in my mouth. You might give our esteemed judges the wrong idea.”

Ben and Brando came sweeping through the doorway together and they made a striking pair. Owner and dog were both trim and muscular. Brando's compact body was enhanced by his fawn coloring, set off to perfection by the dark mask that covered his muzzle and eyes. Looking at the duo, I wondered whether Ben had timed his arrival to the minute, choosing to be last and make a dramatic entrance into an already full room.

“Here we are, everybody accounted for,” Ben continued cheerfully. “You must be Doug. We spoke on the phone. Brando and I are
thrilled
to be included in your happy group.” He managed to subtly shoulder me aside and stuck out his hand. “I know the rest of the participants, but perhaps you might introduce me to your colleagues?”

While Doug took care of that, I walked Faith over to a sideboard where tea and coffee were being served. Next to the drinks were three silver serving trays. One held cookies, the second an assortment of muffins, the third was filled with dog biscuits.

Faith was just below eye level with the offerings on the table. She lifted her nose and sniffed the air, but didn't ask for a biscuit. Clearly the Champions products didn't meet the standards of her finicky palate.

As soon as the introductions were finished, we all found seats around the large conference table. I placed Faith in a down-stay on the floor beside my chair. Allison Redding followed suit with Ginger. Ben unhooked Brando's leash and left the Boxer free to wander the room.

Larry Kim, his hands full with Yoda, hadn't taken a cup of coffee. Now, when he sat at the table, his dog was the only one still readily visible to the committee members. Dorothy caught on to that fact at the same time I did. She deliberately chose a chair that had another empty one beside it.

Like Miniature and Toy Poodles, Scotties are shown on top of grooming tables, so I was quite sure that MacDuff was accustomed to finding himself plopped on top of things and expected to stay. As I watched, Dorothy lifted the small dog and placed him on the padded leather seat. The Scottie balanced himself on his haunches as she pushed the chair in.

When it reached the table, MacDuff lifted both front legs, placed them on the polished wooden edge, and put his wiry black muzzle down between his paws. His dark eyes looked up and around the assembled group, gazing at each of us as if he was simply another participant in the meeting.

Now that was cute.

Simone pulled out a small pad of paper and made an unobtrusive note. Dorothy looked complacently pleased. Ben rolled his eyes. Lisa Kim was smiling. Really, it was hard not to. Then Larry caught his wife's eye and glared. Immediately her eyes dropped to the hands she'd folded in her lap.

“Well MacDuff,” Doug said jovially. “What do you say? Shall we call this meeting to order?”

Let the games begin.

“L
et's start by introducing ourselves again,” Doug said. “Since most of us are meeting for the first time, I think it would be a good idea if we each took a minute to talk about who we are, what we do, and why Champions dog food is important to us.”

He paused and looked expectantly around the table. Everyone nodded in agreement except MacDuff who seemed to be eyeing a muffin Chris had placed next to his laptop.

“Since I'm the contest chairperson, I'll start. I'm also vice president of marketing for Champions Dog Food, which means that I'm the one in charge of telling the world that we manufacture the best canine nutritional products on earth.”

Doug sounded as peppy as a high school cheerleader, and I found myself grinning at his extravagant job description. Nothing like a little hyperbole to get the meeting off to a good start. Then I looked around the table and realized that everyone else was taking his pronouncements seriously. Oops.

He nodded to Simone, who was seated at his right.

“Simone Dorsey,” she said. Her tone was flat, modulated. “I'm director of public relations. My job is to keep this company and our products in front of the public eye, so that when the time comes for people to choose a healthy, balanced diet for their dogs, they'll think of us first. This contest was my idea, and I think we've come up with five superb finalists. Any one of your dogs would make a fine representative for Chow Down dog food.”

This time everyone smiled when she finished speaking. I was relieved to join in; finally I was beginning to catch on to the important cues.

Chris Hovick went next. “Hey,” he said, sketching a small wave in the air. “I'm Chris, more formally known as director of advertising. I'm the one who comes up with the specific campaigns that best illustrate to the public what our products are all about. And Chow Down is going to be big, man. I'm proud to be part of the campaign and I know you will be, too.”

More cheerleading. I guessed the intended effect was to get our competitive juices flowing. If so, judging by the intent expressions I saw on the other finalists' faces, it was working.

“Cindy Burrows.” The last member of the team flipped her long French braid back over her shoulder and introduced herself. “Product manager for Chow Down and delighted to be here. I hope you all are, too. Champions Dog Food is important to me because I believe in the quality of the products.” She stopped and smiled slyly, her gaze sliding around the table. “And because they sign my paycheck.”

Finally, I thought, as we all laughed together. Someone who was willing to inject a small dose of reality into the proceedings. Doug and Simone, I noted, both joined in the merriment, but neither looked amused by the comment.

“Now you know who we are,” Doug said when the laughter had died down. “It's your turn to tell us something about you.”

“What do you want to know?” The rest of us had hesitated; but not Ben, he spoke right up.

“Whatever you feel is important for the selection committee to consider,” said Simone.

Chris nodded. “Surprise us.”

Nothing like a little pressure.

Ben, however, didn't seem to mind. He was in his element and happy to go first.

“I'm an actor,” he said. “You've probably seen my work on television and on the stage. And Brando is an actor's dog. Aside from being a gorgeous Boxer, that's something else we bring to the table that none of the other finalists can. Brando and I are professionals. We won't require a lot of coaching to put in a good performance. We both know how to get the job done and to look good doing it.”

“Thank you,” Doug said when Ben paused to draw a breath.

The actor looked disgruntled by the interruption. Clearly he hadn't intended to give up the spotlight so quickly. “No, thank
you
. Brando and I would also like you to know that we appreciate this wonderful opportunity and that if we're the ones chosen to represent Chow Down dog food, we will devote the full range of our considerable talents to the project. I promise you we won't let you down.”

“Excellent,” said Simone. I wondered if she was responding to Ben's words or the fact that he'd been flirting with her shamelessly since the moment he'd first entered the room.

“Moving on . . .” Doug prompted. “Bill and Allison, what would you like to tell us about Ginger?”

“First and foremost, that she's a great dog,” Allison said, her voice pumped with enthusiasm. “With a wonderful personality. She's almost been like a child to us . . .” She paused and a blush rose to her cheek. “I mean, not that we think she's human or anything—”

“It's all right, honey, they know what you mean,” Bill took over for her. “Allison and I aren't breeders. Ginger is the only dog we own. And look what she's accomplished. She's a conformation champion, she's working on her Utility degree in obedience and she's also qualified for her field championship. Having the opportunity to own a dog of this caliber is kind of like hitting the lottery, they just don't come along every day—”

“What Bill's trying to say is that Ginger can do it all.” Allison was speaking again now. I felt like we were being tag-teamed. On the other hand, I could see how the committee might find the couple's energy infectious.

Bill reached down and patted the Brittany's head. “Once you stop and think about it, I know you'll realize that Ginger is exactly the kind of dog you want representing Chow Down dog food.”

“You might be right,” Doug agreed smoothly. “Dorothy, what would you like to tell us?”

The older woman took a moment to gather her thoughts. She looked slowly around the table, her gaze pausing on each of the committee members in turn. “After listening to what other people have to say, I'm afraid maybe MacDuff and I are going to look a little shabby by comparison.”

“No way!” Chris disagreed.

A small, satisfied smile lifted Dorothy's lips. That was just the response she'd been angling for, I thought.

“Now MacDuff and I, we're not as young and flashy as some of your other contestants. But I guess you'd have to say that we do have experience on our side. Those of you who go to dog shows, I bet most of you know who MacDuff is from his record in the ring.”

She stopped and waited for us to nod. Dutifully, most of us did.

“This dog . . .” Her hand reached over to stroke his head fondly. “He pretty much won everything there was and then some. I retired him at Westminster in February. He'd earned his chance to do nothing but sit in the sun and snore.

“But funny thing about that. When it came right down to it, that wasn't what MacDuff wanted. He missed the excitement of being on the road all the time. Retirement just seemed to bore him silly. In a nutshell, that's why we're here. I figure I owe this old dog anything he wants that will make him happy. And if one more chance in the limelight will do it, then I'm just pleased to be along for the ride.”

Wow, I thought, she was good. That appeal had to tug at the judges' hearts. In her own quiet, unassuming, way, Dorothy had just moved MacDuff up to the top of the list.

Simone was writing furiously on her notepad. Chris had his laptop open. I couldn't see the screen but I assumed he was doing the same. It occurred to me that I probably didn't have to worry about Faith winning the contest. There was no way I was going to be able to top these performances.

“I'm Larry Kim and this is my wife, Lisa,” Larry said from the other end of the table. Lisa inclined her head slightly. “And this lovely Yorkshire Terrier you see in my arms is Yoda. Others have told you about their dogs' lofty accomplishments. Of course I could do the same but instead I would rather get right to the point.

“Yoda loves to eat. Yes, she is a small dog, but don't let her size fool you. This is a dog who always enjoys a good meal. We feed only Champions dog food in our kennel and Yoda was raised on it. She has been eating, and loving, Champions since she was a tiny puppy.”

Approval wafted around the table like a smooth wave. The committee was lapping up this pitch.

“Recently we were fortunate to receive some free samples. You should have seen Yoda dive right in. I barely had the bag open before she was begging for a morsel to eat.”

Seated beside her husband, Lisa was nodding as he spoke. I wondered why she didn't say anything herself. It occurred to me that she was the only one in the room who had yet to speak. Well, except for me.

“Let's be honest,” Larry said. “What you're looking for is an adorable canine representative who loves your product and can sell it to others. Yoda is that dog.”

Another top-notch appeal. As I listened to my fellow contestants speak, they had me half convinced to vote for them myself.

“Melanie?” Doug turned to me. “What would you like us to know about Faith?”

Oh right. My turn. Unfortunately I hadn't prepared something to say like the rest of the participants clearly had. Now I needed something fast. Something fresh and catchy. A slogan. A sound-bite. An irresistible anecdote . . .

And my mind was a total blank. I hate it when that happens.

“Umm . . .” I said, “she's a Standard Poodle.”

Doug smiled encouragingly. Cindy nodded. Chris, waiting with fingers poised above his keyboard, was reserving judgment. As for Simone, she already looked bored.

“The thing about Poodles is . . . that they're a terrific breed of dog. It's true of Faith, but I can't take too much credit because, really, it's true of all of them. Poodles are just wonderful members of the family. They're intelligent, they have a sense of humor, they're empathetic. They're the perfect pet.

“Whatever their owner's lifestyle, they adapt and fit right in. That's why so many people have owned Poodles over the years. And why others have fond memories of the Poodles they knew when they were children. Poodles make people happy. They're evocative of everything that's good about owning a dog.”

“I see,” said Cindy.

I don't think she really saw anything. I think she just wanted to stop my disjointed rambling. And it was probably just as well that she had.

“You know,” Chris said, “now that you mention it, our neighbors had a Poodle when I was little. Smaller than yours. A Mini, I think. His name was Chester and, man, that was some great dog. I bet plenty of people would see a Poodle in an ad and be drawn to it for just that reason. They might not even know why, but seeing a Poodle would make them feel good.”

“Subliminal,” Simone said thoughtfully. “I like it.”

“Definitely something to consider,” Doug agreed.

The other contestants shifted in their seats and regarded me with wary respect. Desperate for something to say, all I'd done was describe how great Poodles were to be around. It was the committee members who had taken my idea—or lack thereof—and run with it. Unexpectedly, it looked as though I'd pulled a rabbit out of a hat.

Doug leaned forward and braced both his hands on the table. “Okay, now we know who we are and why we're all here. Cindy and Chris, why don't you tell everyone what's up next.”

“As you know,” the young woman began, “Chow Down is a new product for us. One we're going to be introducing to the marketplace shortly. To be perfectly honest, it's not like there's a shortage of good kibbles already available. So it's vital that we do something to set our dog food apart in the minds of the consumers.

“That's where the role of spokesdog comes in. We're looking for a dog that's every bit as much of a standout as we feel our product to be. A dog that's not only beautiful to look at, but that has personality and charisma, too. A dog that's one in a million.”

“Obviously all your dogs are beautiful specimens of their respective breeds,” Chris told us. “Otherwise you wouldn't be here. But now they need to show us something more. What we thought we'd do next is have you take them off their leashes and let them interact with one another. Kind of a “free play” situation where we could observe what they're like when they're just being themselves.”

Five strange dogs, all turned loose simultaneously in a small room and encouraged to be entertaining? It certainly wasn't the best idea I'd ever heard. Years earlier, I had taken Davey to an interview for a preschool where they used a similar evaluation technique. That meeting had turned into a train wreck. This one, I thought, had similar potential.

“Fine by me,” Doug said happily. Brando was already loose. The Boxer had been roaming freely around the room for the last ten minutes.

Allison shrugged, reached down, and unsnapped Ginger's leash. The Brittany was beautifully trained. She knew she'd been released, but even so she maintained her down-stay position.

“I'm not sure this is a good idea,” said Dorothy. “Terriers can be territorial. Nothing wrong with that, it's their nature.” It was also the reason why terriers were sometimes asked to spar in the show ring. MacDuff was one of the smallest dogs in the room. If he decided to pick a fight, he would be at a real disadvantage in the fray that followed.

Chris looked as though he was about to argue, but Larry Kim's voice, speaking calmly and deliberately, brought the room to a standstill. “This will not be happening,” he said.

“Pardon me?” Simone sounded shocked. I was willing to bet she wasn't accustomed to having people deny her what she wanted.

All eyes at the table turned Larry's way.

“Your idea is not a good one. In such a circumstance, the smaller dogs' safety cannot be ensured, and in fact if something should go wrong, any one of the five might be at risk. I suggest that we find a different way for you to observe the dogs' personalities. Either that, or we take the time to carefully introduce them to each other before turning them loose.”