Sylvia brushed Mac’s white silky hair, all the while watching the other dog owners groom and prepare their dogs. Her terrier, a West Highland White, was sure to be Best of Show. She felt it in her bones. The other dogs might as well leave the building right now.
Fredrick Jamison, that colossal bore, came by with his dog at his side, the two of them prancing along with identical gaits. He smirked in her direction and Sylvia almost said, “You’re losing this year, Freddy boy,” aloud, only restraining herself at the last minute. No sense antagonizing the most vindictive trainer on the circuit before she had her trophy in hand. . .
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “best of show.”
I knew she hadn’t deserved the role and she knew it, too. It had been a conversation on the top of every gossip list in the circuit for at least a month, yet in the name of propriety no one had pursued a rightful course.
I watche her step forward to claim the award that night, and the bitter taste in my mouth wasn’t jealousy, it was loss. I had lost what was never mine to begin with, yet….
Good to see you here, Emily, thanks for writing.