Alberta Larkin was perturbed that the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show was still held outdoors in 2023. The Billy Jean King Tennis Center in Queens didn’t hold a candle to Madison Square Garden. The pandemic was over, for St. Bernard’s sake, so why the hell was it still outside?
“Out of an abundance of caution,” the organizers said. As she scrubs her face in the mirror before bed, she can’t get that phrase out of her head.
Queens, New York, was worse than that God awful Tarrytown in Westchester last year, which everyone said was so “quaint.” This year, her hotel was near the venue, 12 miles from LaGuardia Airport, but still too close for a good night’s sleep. Trucks rumbled by day like dinosaurs, and sirens screamed at night like colicky babies. And in the morning, she’d have to take that “cattle car” they call a shuttle again.
Still, Buddy had done well today, and she was sure that Elizabeth would make the best showing of him in the non-sporting final tomorrow. She just hoped he wouldn’t drool, the bane of English bulldogs. Alberta loved the breed. She had owned one as a child, and Buddy, a three-year-old was her third and best show-dog yet. With patches of brown over his eyes and a cheshire grin, Buddy was a living Puff-a-lump. She fancied him the crowd favorite, so strong, so poised, so affectionate. Not unlike herself, she thought.
The sound of the telephone startles her. It’s almost 10:30 p.m.
“I’m sorry to disturb you this late, Alberta, but there’s distressing news.” Elizabeth sounded as if she’d been crying.
“Is Buddy alright?”
“Well, not exactly…”
“Is he dead?”
“No, but he’s gone. Someone swiped him from the grooming tent this evening.
“Weren’t you there?”
“Well, yes. But I, well…” Elizabeth was choking back tears. “I should have called sooner.”
“What happened?”
“I stopped to get a hotdog, and when I returned, Buddy was gone. The cage door was open, but I know it was closed when I left.”
“Oh, Elizabeth…”
“We alerted security, and people have been out looking for hours. I thought we’d have found him by now.”
“Did they call the police?’
“They notified the police, but NYPD won’t get involved for at least 48 hours.”
“Don’t they realize, this isn’t just any dog?”
“They do, and they do the same for people. Most times they come home on their own.”
Alberta repeated an expletive three times. “So what do we do now?”
“There’s not much more we can do but wait. I mean the final doesn’t start until 1 p.m.”
“I don’t really care about the show anymore. I just want my dog back.”
“Security said they’ll resume the search in the morning. I’m so-so sorry Alberta.”
“Don’t worry, Elizabeth. We’ll get him back.”
Alberta hung up hoping she could believe her own words. Her mind raced. Who’d want to steal her dog, any show-dog? Certainly, the perpetrator knew. It was most likely someone at the show.
Could it be a jealous competitor? Perhaps. Alberta ruminated about her interactions with the other owners in the non-sporting class. She had her suspicions, but wondered how warped could someone be to attempt such a thing. Money wasn’t even a factor. In fact, there was no prize for Best in Show at Westminster, only prestige.
More likely a breeder then. Buddy could command serious stud fees, which would jump to $50,000 to $100,000 or more for a best-in-class winner. But the litter could never fully benefit from the pedigree without falsifying documents. Could it be an inside job? Standing in her nightgown, Alberta wondered who would risk their reputation.
She switched off the light, not sure she could sleep. She pictured Buddy’s pudgy face and wished she could kiss him. Her fears chased around like greyhounds after a rabbit. Eventually, she started to drift. Buddy stood firm and poised while the judge placed his hand on his back for inspection. From the sideline, Alberta could see moisture forming at the corner of Buddy’s mouth. Couldn’t Elizabeth stop him from drooling?
Her heart pounds. Three loud bangs sound on the hotel room door. She glances at the clock–11:45 p.m. She throws off the blankets and dons a robe. With the security lock still on, she peers through the peephole. No one. She hesitates before cracking the door.. Still no one. Perhaps some party heads had too much to drink.
As she stands there, she feels something underfoot, an envelope hand-addressed to Miss Larkin. She closes the door and tears it open. Inside there’s a note: Meet me by the fountain in the park across the street in 15 minutes. Come alone. –Buddy
Many top-flight people from the show stay at the hotel, and since the note is on hotel stationery, she figures it’s a guest. The hotel has security cameras, so it shouldn’t be difficult to discover who.
Alberta parts the curtains and gazes across the street. The park is covered in shadows, but she can see the fountain in the distance. A circle of lights illuminate a statue of a Greek goddess. She pulls on a sweater and slacks and slips into her walking shoes. She calls Elizabeth, hoping she’ll pick up but must leave a message. Someone found Buddy, and she’s about to get him back.
Pushing through the revolving doors, she decides to go back to the front desk. Unfortunately, hotel security will not return until 7 a.m. She lets the clerk know where she’s going, and says to contact the police if she’s not back in 15 minutes.
Tall bushes line the walkway into the park and cast shadows where someone could lurk. Several sidewalks intersect at angles, and they, too, are lined with bushes and overhanging trees. Against the light of the park lamps, branches perform a ghostly dance in the breeze. Alberta’s heart flutters. She bites her lip and presses forward, determined to get Buddy back.
As she approaches the fountain, the sound of rushing water builds as if she’s emerging from a giant seashell. She can’t see anyone, but she’s still a minute early. She walks around the fountain twice then sits on a dry portion of the ledge and glances at her watch. It’s midnight. Still no word from Elizabeth.
She takes a long breath and exhales. Then a man in blue jeans strolls from the sidewalk behind her.
“Miss Larkin?”
She turns. “Are you Buddy?”
“No. You can call me Max.”
Alberta couldn’t see his eyes, but he seems to be forty-ish with a close beard and a gothic cross tattooed on his hand. “Do you know where Buddy is?”
“That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“Do you want a reward?”
“No, no, no. It’s nothing like that.”
“Well, what then, Max? Do you have my dog, or what?”
“Yes, and we’re here to give Buddy back. But you need to understand something first, Miss Larkin, because it’s not anything like you think.”
Alberta wonders what he thought she must think but figures it best not to ask. After all, he did steal her dog which made him a thief, and given the value of her dog, a grand thief.. She can only muster one word: “We?”
“You can come out now, Eddie.”
A young man steps from the hedge and walks up to her with Buddy on a leash. The dog hops at her knees, and wags his tail as he licks her face.
“Oh, you’re so happy to see me, aren’t you?” She kisses Buddy and rubs his back.
“Eddie, take him off the leash.”
Alberta notices the leash is an electrical cord from a lamp. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”
“Oh, no. We wouldn’t do that, Miss Larkin,” Max says.
Eddie finally speaks. “We lub Buddy. We lub Buddy.”
Alberta looks the young man in the face, but the streetlamp is behind him. His knees are bent slightly, and his shoulders slump forward. He takes a seat next to her and pets the dog.
“Can we keep him? Can we keep him?”
“I told you, Eddie, he’s not ours. We have to give him back now. Buddy belongs to Miss Larkin.”
Max looks at Alberta. “Eddie’s on the spectrum. It’s not easy, especially now that he’s 19. He topped out of the system last year, and public services are non-existent. I’m in the electrical union, but I’m not rich. My wife passed away three years ago. Eddie lives with me, and I have my hands full. I mean, if it weren’t for the dog shows on TV…
“So is that why you took Buddy?”
“Well, I didn’t say I took him?”
“Look, I’m just glad to get my dog back. But somehow, I doubt Eddie took the dog on his own.”
Max shifts back and forth on his feet. “Listen, Eddie’s not stupid. In fact, he knows everything there is to know about Buddy, every award he’s ever won. Just ask him…Ok, I’ll ask him: Hey, Eddie, what’s the first AKC show Buddy won?”
“Best in Breed in Florida at the Sarasota show in 2021 with Elizabeth Monteroy as his handler. Buddy beat out seven other bulldogs. Ace came in second, and Breckinridge third.”
“See? Eddie doesn’t slur when it comes to dogs.”
“Well, even if Buddy escaped his cage, Eddie must’ve had some help.”
“Don’t you see, Ms. Larkin? Eddie’s my only son. I love him just as you love your dog, and Buddy helped pull Eddie out of his shell.”
In front of the hotel, red and blue lights are flashing. “OK, so what do you want then?”
“I just wanted to give Eddie a dog-day afternoon with the dog he loved. I should’ve returned him sooner, but they were having such a good time together.”
A female police officer walks up with a flashlight, her partner approaches from the other side shining the light in Max’s face.
“We got a call. Is this man bothering you?”
Alberta stands up with the dog in her arms. “We’re ok, officers.” Alberta can see Max’s eyes now. His face is weathered. She whispers. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want, Max?”
“Just to be friends,” he says.
Eddie is sobbing. Alberta lets him hug Buddy one more time. She takes Max’s contact info for the fan list, and promises to keep in touch.
The next day, the Best in Show winner is not Buddy but, coincidentally, a Petit Basset Griffon Vendéen named “Buddy Holly.” Alberta feels no disappointment, no jealousy, but rather a sense of relief. Her Buddy performed well, and she feels brighter than she’s felt in a long time. At the after-party, she chats with some of her favorite AKC people.
The following week, a background check shows Max is indeed a solid guy, and she calls to get to know him better. Though not her type, she admires his heart and tenacity. They arrange regular video chats that include Eddie, and of course, Buddy. Eddie is both caring and responsible, and on one call, he shows her his hamsters.
A few months later, she calls to show them the new litter Buddy has sired. After discussing it with Max, she tells Eddie the news on his birthday. One of the pups is for him. She’s the runt of the litter. She’ll be weaned in time for the Madison Square Garden shosw, and they’ll have choice seats.
When Eddie finally sees the wrinkly puppy, he falls instantly in love. He names her, of course, “Miss Larkin.”
# # # #
111524 (1922 words)
Caption:
“We alerted security, and people have been out looking for hours. I thought we’d have found him by now.”
Image by Sven Lachmann from Pixabay
