He’d gotten up from his position on the foam pad he used to protect his knees and approached the hedge. At one point they’d agreed to a fence to mark the official boundary, but recently had decided that a hedge was much nicer, and also provided a way for their respective pets to come and go as they pleased. Ted and his wife Marcie owned a sheepdog, Rufus, who, contrary to popular belief, wasn’t an enemy to the Poole cat contingent but a friend, and so as Ted and Tex chatted across the hedge, Tex saw that Harriet and Brutus scooted underneath, and crossed into Ted’s backyard to shoot thebreeze with the man’s canine friend.
“Look, I know you take great pride in your backyard, Tex,” said Ted. “And you know I do, too. But at the end of the day, we’re hardly pros, are we? And you have to admit it takes a lot of time and effort to make these gardens shine. So I was thinking that maybe if we bring in a landscaper, and then pay a gardener to come in once a week, or once every two weeks, we could save ourselves a lot of trouble, and at the same time have the kind of backyards we can really be proud of.”
“Mh,” said Tex as he gave this suggestion some thought. The idea had merit. Though he was reluctant to admit it to his neighbor, of course. So instead he said, “Professional landscapers are expensive, Ted. Even if we pooled our resources.”
“Oh, I’m sure between the two of us, it’s a warranted expenditure,” said Ted. With a wink, he added, “I might even be able to turn it into a tax deduction.”
Ted was an accountant, so creating tax breaks or write-offs was what he did.
“I’d have to discuss it with Marge,” said Tex, wavering. He enjoyed working in his backyard, but lately he’d started feeling the strain, especially when spring was in the land, of spending every available moment having to fight the good fight against the pesky weeds attacking his flowerbeds. Even the modest patch of lettuce and radish he’d planted at Marge’s instigation needed constant vigilance to save them from a veritable army of pests trying to get at them before Tex could.
“Look, I know you need some time to think about it,” said Ted, “but give it some serious thought, yeah? I think you’ll find it will make both our lives a lot easier. And hey, paying a gardener doesn’t mean we can’t still do a little bit of gardening ourselves. Only difference is that we’ll have fun doing it, and not see it as a chore we can’t get out of.” He shrugged. “At least that’s how I feel. You?”
Tex slowly nodded.“Lately it’s all becoming a little too much,” he admitted. “Especially those snails that keep eating everything I plant.”
“Yeah, same here,” said Ted. “And you should see what they’re doing to my gnomes. Every morning those little buddies are full of slimy trails. Really yucky.”
It was a problem the good doctor had been contending with himself, and he could sympathize.
“I just hope this landscaper of yours goes easy on the toxic products.”
“Oh, no! Natural stuff only,” Ted assured him. “Absolutely. We don’t want to poison the soil, now do we?” And with a final nod at his neighbor, Ted returned to the arduous work of having to clean his gnomes from all traces of snail slime.
It was an arduous task, and a thankless one at that. For no sooner had they cleaned their respective gnomes, an army of snails had defaced them again.
And so it was with a faint sense of hope that Tex returned to his weeding. For once in his life, Ted had had a good idea. An idea Tex could wholeheartedly get behind. And if this gardener proved a tax break, so much the better. Your hard-working doctor has to count the pennies, just like any responsible family man.
CHAPTER 3
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While Tex stood chatting with his neighbor, Harriet and Brutus had slipped through the hedge and were now engaged in earnest conversation with Rufus, the Trappers’ sheepdog. As a rule, cats and dogs don’t usually see eye to eye, but then life in Hampton Cove doesn’t always adhere to the fixed rules that seem to govern the rest of the world.
“I don’t think so, Rufus,” Harriet was saying. “I really believe you should go through with it.”
“But Harriet,” Rufus said, directing a look of anguish at his neighbor. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because you are just about the handsomest dog I know, that’s why,” said Harriet. A rare compliment in her book, but one that was well deserved, she felt.
“I don’t know,” said the big fluffy dog, as he hung his head, prey to indecision. “What if I lose badly? I’ll never live it down. You know what pets are like.”
Oh, she most certainly did. Once she had given her all by launching herself into show business, only to be laughed off the stage by a roomful of haters. So she could see where Rufus was coming from. Which is why she felt so adamant about this.“Look, Rufus,” she said, deciding to go for broke. “If you do this, I’ll be there for you every step of the way. And I’m talking personal one-on-one coaching. I’ll be your personal trainer, mental coach and psychologist all rolled into one.”
“And me,” said Brutus, a little gruffly, Harriet felt. “Don’t forget about me.”
“You would do that for me?” asked Rufus, a smile breaking through the clouds.
“Of course!” said Harriet. “And if you make it, which I’m sure you will, it will be because we gave it everything we had. It will be a celebration of the art of perseverance.” And her personal vengeance against all the naysayers that claimed she was a talentless hack. Of which, she had tosay, there were plenty.
“What about you, Brutus?” asked Rufus, consulting Harriet’s mate. “Do you think I should sign myself up for this dog show or not?”
Brutus hesitated for a moment, but then caught Harriet’s eye. “Of course,” said the butch black cat. “I think you’re a very talented dog, Rufus, and it’s about time the world saw you for who you are.”
Rufus beamed widely. If even Brutus felt that their friend had a chance, he might as well go ahead.“Could you give Fifi the same speech you just gave me?”
“Fifi?” asked Harriet. “Does she also want to join the show?”
“Oh, absolutely,” said Rufus. “In fact it was her idea. Only she doesn’t feel she’s pretty enough to enter such an important competition, so she bailed.”
“I think Fifi stands just as much chance as you,” said Harriet, and hoped her words rang true with the power of conviction. She’d never understood why dogs enter these Best in Show deals, but then she’d always relied more on her innate sense of talent rather than her good looks. But it was certainly true that both Rufus and Fifi were prime specimens of their respective species, and would have no trouble finding plenty of supporters to defend their claim at the big prize.
“Okay, if I’ve got you both in my corner, I think I might give this thing a shot,” finally Rufus decided. He heaved a deep sigh. “Now all we need to do is to convince Ted and Marcie to enter me into the competition. And Kurt, of course.”
They exchanged worried glances. Convincing Ted and Marcie was one thing, but Fifi’s human was quite another. A retired schoolteacher, the notoriously bad-tempered Kurt Mayfield wasn’t the kind of person to take advice from his neighbors, and the only way to enter both dogs in the competition was for Harriet to tell Gran or Marge, and for Gran or Marge to talk to their neighbors and float the idea. If either Rufus or Fifi’s humans decided against the idea, no dice!
“Oh, it will be fine,” said Harriet, as she gently patted the big dog on in the flank. “Kurt will have to agree. He just has to.”
“If Fifi doesn’t sign up, neither will I,” said Rufus, in a strong example of canine loyalty.
“Fifi will sign up. And if Kurt refuses,” said Harriet, “we’ll sign her up in secret. He’ll never even know she entered the show until it’s all over and done with.”
“Yeah, but someone has to walk her onto the platform,” said Rufus. “And if not Kurt, then who?”