Username: Embergleam
Name and ID# of Dog Stolen: #A-0117 Ineffable Plan "Omen"
Owner of Stolen Dog: Frisco
Art/Writing: Art:Merlot enjoying a sunny day by the lakeSeven's in hot pursuit of... something!Image conquers the agility ring!Writing: "Misbehaving", 477 words.Omen was up to something.
The other handlers knew it. The dogs surrounding him knew it too. Even the poor sod who had taken advantage of the chaos surrounding the change in venue to "borrow" him had the distinct feeling something was up. Nobody could quite tell
what, though. The brightly-patched shepherd wasn't getting up to any of his usual shenanigans, as far as anyone could tell. He wasn't trying to bolt, nor was he harassing any of the other competitors. If anything, he was being almost suspiciously well-behaved.
Handlers who had competed against Omen before knew all too well that a "well-behaved" Omen was rarely what he seemed.
And yet, the tenuous peace held as other competitors were put through their paces. Omen simply watched from the sidelines, sitting almost eerily impassive at his ersatz handler's side. When their turn came, he trotted obediently out onto the lawn that had been converted into a temporary competition ring. He waited patiently as he and his handler were introduced, his lead was unclipped, and then-
-he promptly did
the exact opposite of what he was instructed to.
The moment his handler asked him to sit? He dropped straight to the ground in a perfect 'down'. His handler called for a stay? He trotted merrily along at their heels, tail wagging all the while. More complicated commands just gave him more opportunities for precision-guided revenge. An order to 'get your leash' was the perfect excuse to fetch his leash
and refuse to give it back. Ask him to leap over a high jump, pick up a dumbbell in his mouth, and carry it back? Nah, it was far more fun to crash straight through the jump and prance off to give the dumbbell to an audience member.
What was supposed to be a formal, club-sanctioned show quickly turned into something more closely resembling a circus. Other handlers watched the spectacle with raised eyebrows, but the assisted living community's residents? They
loved it. Omen's every antic was met with peals of uproarious laughter. It wasn't the stunning display of teamwork they'd been promised, but it was every bit as good.
Omen and his handler placed last, of course, a fact that must have wounded the latter. Omen, on the other hand, couldn't have cared less. The moment he'd finished their "routine" he'd scootched right over to the audience and plopped himself in the biggest group of residents he could find. There he stayed, luxuriating in an endless sea of pets, until his
actual handler reappeared. Then and only then did he carefully pick his way clear for a "redo round".
At the end of the day points, rankings, and awards didn't matter all that much to Omen. He'd already won the prize he treasured most: pulling a fast one on anyone who dared cross wits with the likes of him!
