Melanie Travis 06 - Hush Puppy Read Free

“There was a bit of a problem,” I said.
    “I guess there would be. I’ve never seen so much junk.” Michael lifted the painting free and laid it back against the couch. “This place is a pit, isn’t it? Your basic testament to the excesses of private education. Do you suppose they ever threw anything out? Or even thought of using it twice?”
    He picked up the burgundy-velvet curtains I’d folded and tossed the heavy bundle on top of a similar pair in a faded shade of hunter green. A cloud of dust rose, then settled, around them. “Russell promised me free rein with the drama department, such as it is. I can see the first order of business better be cleaning this room.”
    “After we come up with a theme for the pageant,” I said firmly. “Did the committee think of anything after I left?”
    “Lots of things, none of them useful. We did manage to pass a rule prohibiting smoking at the meetings.”
    “Ed?” I ventured.
    “Ed. He seemed to think that if he stood next to the window when he lit up, nobody would mind. Sally changed his mind about that pretty quickly.”
    “She would.” I grinned. “Do you really think we ought to take this monstrosity back and hang it up?”
    “The committee voted for it.” Michael squatted down in front of the painting. “I’m happy to bow to majority rule. Who’s the artist anyway? Is there a signature?”
    “Just initials.” I’d already looked. “R.W.H., whoever that is.”
    “Maybe an artist with too much taste to want his name associated with the finished product? Hey, what’s this?” Michael read the plaque on the bottom of the frame, then looked at the dog in the lower corner of the picture. “Poupee? Silly name for a rather silly looking dog.”
    “It’s a Poodle,” I told him. “Probably a small Standard. Even though they were originally bred in Germany, lots of people still think of them as French Poodles. I would imagine that’s how he got the name. As to the silly looking trim, that’s not his fault. In those days, it was called a lion trim. Now we use a variation called a continental in the show ring.”
    Michael stood up and dusted off his hands. “How do you know so much about it?”
    “I have a Poodle at home that looks quite a bit like that one. My aunt breeds Standard Poodles. She’s shown them for years, and now she’s got me doing it, too.”
    “I have to admit it’s a pretty distinctive look, with the hair long on the front and all shaved off in back. Maybe we could use your dog in the pageant.”
    “Doing what?” I asked, surprised.
    “She could play the part of Poupee.” Michael saw the expression on my face and grinned. “Hey, don’t knock it. That’s probably the best idea we’ve come up with all week.”
    Somehow, that wasn’t a comforting thought.
     
    By the time we got back to the teachers’ lounge, the rest of the committee had grown tired of waiting for us and gone home. Meetings held at the end of the day on Friday are never popular, especially as Howard Academy has early dismissal so that everyone can get a jump on their weekend plans. Some of my students would be heading north with their parents to ski; others, south, in search of sun. At least one had theater tickets for Broadway and another was planning to go fox hunting.
    As for me, I was heading home to let out the dog and meet my six-year-old son, Davey’s, school bus. We’d have milk and cookies together, and he’d tell me about his day. After that, I had to give Faith a bath as she was entered in a dog show that weekend where I had high hopes of picking up some much-needed points toward her championship. I wouldn’t have traded places with anyone.
    As always, Faith was waiting by the door when I got home. She whined softly as I fitted the key to the lock, then launched herself into the air in a frenzy of greeting as the door swung open. Standards are the largest of the three varieties of Poodles. Faith stands twenty-four inches at the shoulder and