Chow Down (A Melanie Travis Mystery)

An envelope from Publisher’s Clearing House? Did we win a million bucks?”
    “Not quite. Though apparently one of our Poodles may be on the fast track to fame and fortune.”
    “Faith?” Davey perked up. “Did she win the contest?”
    Well, I guessed that answered my next question.
    “What contest?” Sam asked, banana poised in the air midway to his lips.
    “ ‘ All Dogs Are Champions.’ ”
    “They are?”
    “That’s the name of the contest. It’s sponsored by the makers of Chow Down dog food.”
    “I’ve heard of them. They’re headquartered around here somewhere, aren’t they?”
    “Norwalk,” Davey said impatiently. “They’re in Norwalk. Did Faith win ?”
    “Not quite. But she’s been named one of five finalists—”
    “Yippee!” my son shrieked. He began to twirl in circles around the room.
    “Not so fast, Lord of the Dance. Did it ever occur to you that it might have been a good idea to check with me before you went ahead and entered Faith in a contest?”
    “Umm . . . no.”
    Davey’s exuberant steps never even faltered. I watched him and sighed. I supposed, if nothing else, I had to give him points for honesty.
    “Faith is a champion,” Sam pointed out. I don’t think he had a clue what was going on.
    “That’s what I told the people at the booth,” said Davey.
    “What booth?”
    “The Chow Down booth. They have one at all the dog shows.”
    “They do?” I’d never noticed. Then again, when I’m at a show I’m usually busy either exhibiting or getting Eve ready to go in the ring. I seldom spend time browsing the concessions.
    “That’s where I found out about the contest. The man told me they were trying to get show dogs interested in eating their new kibble.”
    “Presumably they were trying to attract the dogs’ owners,” Sam said under his breath.
    “No,” Davey corrected. “The food is for the dogs. I told the man about Faith and he gave me a brochure and an entry form. There was a web site to go to and I filled everything out online.”
    “All without mentioning it to me?” I said again.
    “I couldn’t tell you,” Davey said earnestly. “It was supposed to be a surprise .”
    “Trust me, it was.”
    “Is this the letter?” Sam picked up the sheet of paper from the counter. His eyes skimmed down the page. Midway through, he was biting back a smile. “A personal interview with Faith . . . ? I’d like to see that myself. This sounds like quite an undertaking.”
    “It sounds like fun ,” said Davey. “Faith could be famous. She could make lots of money! She could be on TV, like in commercials and everything. Everyone would know who she was!”
    Maybe that seemed like a good thing to an eight-year-old. To me, it sounded like a nightmare. I’ve never understood the appeal of fame. Fortune, sure. Who doesn’t like money? But thanks to a video game Sam had designed years earlier, he and I already had more than enough.
    Besides, it was summer. This was supposed to be my time off. I had no desire to shepherd Faith through the final phases of a selection process for a contest I didn’t particularly want to win.
    “The notification letter was addressed to me,” I said.
    For the first time, Davey’s eyes slipped away.
    “Did you sign my name on the entry form?”
    Davey developed a sudden interest in his apple. “Not exactly,” he mumbled.
    “Then what did you do?”
    “The form was online, so I just typed your name in.”
    A small distinction, but at least I didn’t have to add forgery to his crimes.
    “The owner of the dog was supposed to sign. Faith belongs to me as much as she belongs to you . . .” Davey looked at me for confirmation and I nodded. “Except that . . .” Another pause, then he blurted out the rest. “You had to be over the age of eighteen to enter.”
    A rule imposed to prevent an occurrence like this one, presumably.
    “Please, Mom!” Davey pleaded. “Just give it a try and see what happens.”
    I glanced at Sam, who merely shrugged. This was going to be my decision.
    “I’ll tell you what,” I proposed. “I’ll call the company and find out what the contest is all about, see how much time and effort it would take to continue on with the selection process. But until I have a clearer idea of what’s involved, I’m not making any promises—”
    “Yippee!” Davey shouted again. “Faith is going to be famous.”
    Oh joy.

    The phone call to Champions Dog Food went just about as well as the