The Pet Show Mystery

and a pencil out of his shirt pocket. Elaborately, he made a big check mark next to one item. “ ‘Ask Nick for ribbons and trophies’—done,” he said.
    Nick began to laugh. “One step ahead of me, as usual. Since you folks are usually headed in the right direction, I don’t mind.”
    “Thank you, Nick,” Honey said, acknowledging both Nick’s help and his compliment. “I hope all the other things on Jim’s list will be as easy to accomplish.”
    After school, the young people piled into the Bob-White station wagon, a gift to the club from Matthew Wheeler. After a whole day outside, the car was so cold that the engine turned over slowly.
    “I know just how it feels,” Trixie grumbled. “Oh, no, you don’t,” Jim retorted. “This slow-starting car has nothing in common with the Bob-Whites. Why, we’re less than twenty-four hours into our planning for the pet show, and just look what we’ve accomplished. I saw the principal and he gave us permission to use the gym and have a sign-up table in the main hall. Nick is doing posters and contributing ribbons. We’re off and rolling. Next stop—Dr. Chang’s.”
    Dr. Chang’s office was a squat, brick building that sat by itself on the outskirts of town. The isolation was necessary because, for most of the day, dogs barked at one another in the waiting room. Their barking created more barking from the dogs who were recovering from illness or being boarded in the kennel at the back of the building.
    “It’s deafening,” Trixie said as the Bob-Whites approached the door. “I don’t know how he stands it.”
    “He probably doesn’t even hear it anymore,” Di said. “You can get used to lots of noise, believe me.” Di, who had a set of younger twin brothers and a set of younger twin sisters, made a wry face.
    Inside, the temperature was cool, set for the comfort of furry animals, not humans. In the waiting room, the pets’ owners sat with their coats on. A well-trained Doberman pinscher sat quietly, watching everything without moving. An energetic terrier ran in short circles permitted by its leash. A tiny Chihuahua sat in its owner’s lap, trembling despite its knit sweater. A gray cat, wrapped in a green towel, rested in its owner’s arms.
    All of the animals and their owners turned to stare at the Bob-Whites, and Trixie felt selfconscious as she walked over to the reception window. “We’re here to see Dr. Chang,” she said. “We called him this morning, and he said to come over after school.”
    “I’ll tell him you’re here,” the receptionist said.
    The pets and their owners continued to stare at the seven young people, none of whom had a pet. When the receptionist finally escorted them into Dr. Chang’s office, Trixie felt both relieved to get away and guilty for taking up someone else’s appointment time.
    “This won’t take long,” she assured him as she and her friends crowded into the office. She explained the pet show idea to Dr. Chang and soon had him nodding his enthusiasm.
    Honey explained the idea of enclosing fliers with his monthly statements, and the veterinarian nodded again. “You caught me just in time. Statements go out on the tenth, which is Friday. If you give me the fliers before that, I’ll be happy to include them.”
    “Now there’s just one more thing,” Trixie said. “We want you to judge the pet show.”
    Dr. Chang looked at Trixie through his thick, wire-rimmed glasses. “I already have half of Sleepyside angry with me because I tell them that their animals are overweight or not well groomed. Or I anger them by saying they should keep their dogs on leashes so I don’t have to stitch up cuts and gashes. If those judgments upset them, what will my judgments at the pet show do?”
    “Oh, but this isn’t that kind of pet show,” Honey said. “Roberts’s Trophy Shop is supplying us with lots of ribbons and trophies. Every animal that enters will get something, so their owners will all go home happy.”
    “All?” Dr. Chang asked.
    “All,” Mart said quickly. “We’ll have enough trophies for every animal. As the entries come in, we’ll figure out a winning category for each.”
    “All right,” Dr. Chang said. “I may live to regret this, but I’ll do it.”
    “Yippee!” Trixie shouted, and her friends chorused their thank-you’s.
    “We’re off to Sleepyside Mall now,” Jim said to Dr. Chang. “We’ll bring you the fliers by Friday.”
    Outside, Trixie sighed with relief.