Trouble in Paradise

After enjoying Tika's maturity and training yesterday, what a blow to go for our usual walk this morning and realize that in 2 days she hasn't miraculously learned to walk on a leash without yanking.

Sigh. I might have to go back to those early months of walking in circles for hours, trying to see whether now perhaps we can at least get to the point of walking around the court without yanking repeatedly. I just got sooooo tired of that, with so little progress to show for it--if I'm going to be frustrated constantly, might as well walk over more interesting territory while being frustrated constantly.

Backfilling history

I saved all of my email about Tika from the time that I got her and, when I started this blog, it was primarily with the intention of talking about my experiences training and learning to love a new dog, and I was going to plonk all of those old emails into the appropriate dates in this Blog.

Shortly after I started, though, it became a forum for Rem's cancer. And during that time it gradually evolved into just discussions and observations about dogs, my dogs, agility, my agility, my emotional relationship with my dogs--

And I'm just now getting around to backposting some of those old emails. I just put up all the ones through the point where Tika has become her name. You'll see that there's now an archive for January 2002--it's all in there. Enjoy. (Boy, you think I type a lot NOW some days!)

Dogs' Names and Attention

Now here's the thing.

Tika has figured out that I'm walking around with a pocket of goodies and when I say "Jake!", SHE runs over to see what's going on.

Seems to me I remember something like that between Remington and Sheba, or maybe Sheba and Amber--that there was something in particular that the one dog would do and so we'd say their name there, and the smart dog always figured that out, so when we'd say the other dog's name, the smart dog would go dashing over to see what fun was afoot.

Jake's not as fast a learner, but food is somewhat more powerful than the opiates released by licking one's feet, so I have hope.

Don't Yell, I Ain't Deef!

OK, I think I have it figured out. Jake is definitely tuning me out.

See, he has this obsessive habit of licking his paws or biting at himself which makes this horrible sucky sound as he works up steam and starts panting. So picture this:

• You're working at your desk, concentrating on whether the pages options file is the only one that allows the special category Pages to control the conversion of mixed JPEG and BMP files programmatically to PDF. The house is quiet. You're trying to focus. Lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick Augghhh! "Jake!" you say. The dog keeps licking. "Jake!" lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick lick "JAKE!" now it gets faster so you know he's trying to get in all his licks before you make him stop licklicklicklicklicklicklicklicklicklick "JAKE CUT IT OUT!" licklicklicklicklicklicklicklicklicklick Then you go over and give him a nudge and he looks up, indignant.
• You're nestled all snug in your bed, while visions of agility courses dance through your head. You're warm. Your eyes are closed. The room is dark and silent. Bite bite bite bite bite snorffff bite bite bite bite bite bite snorffff bite bite bit bite bite snorffff bite bite bite bite snorffff bite bite bite bite snorffff bite bite bite bite bite bite bite snorffff "Jake!" you say. The dog keeps biting. "Jake!" bite bite bite bite bite bite bite bite (the snorffs have stopped because now it's clear that there's limited time with no room for actual inhaling bite bite bite bite bite bite bite bite bite bite bite bite "JAKE! CUT IT OUT!" bitebitebitebitebitebitebitebite and of course now the bed is jiggling furiously so you have to emerge from your cozy covers and give him a nudge, whereupon he looks up, heaves a huge sigh (from not having breathed for 30 seconds) and sets to panting, glaring at you in an indignant way.
• Repeat ad infinitum.

Now picture this. You're somewhere else, anywhere, and you want the dog's attention. "Jake!" you say.

Huh. No response.

You're on an agility course and there's a jump straight in front of the dog but you want him to turn right but he has just blasted through a completely straight 20-foot tunnel (which is like a missile launcher for dogs) and if he takes that jump, you've just faulted out of that run that you want very much. While he's still in the tunnel, you yell "Jake!" (This used to work. Worked for Rem. Works for Tika.) As he emerges, you yell "Jake!" again. Then you yell "Jake! JAKE! ***JAKE***!!!" and he starts to hesitate and falters slightly, but he never ever looks at you, because he has locked onto that jump and after all you'll come over and nudge him when you really want something. Boom. You've faulted out.

That could very well be what's going on.

So today I've been walking around with a pocket of goodies and trying to get him in any manner at all to look at me the first time I say his name, and I'm TRYING to simply walk over and nudge him the first time rather than using his name in vain.

This requires actual work on my part, which just isn't fair (stomp feet, whine a bit).

But I think we're making progress.

Back to the Gopher Park

Took Jake and Tika to The Gopher Park bright and early this morning. It's been a long time. Used to take the dogs fairly often--at least once a month, sometimes once a week, before Rem got sick. Took Rem there alone when I thought he was dying, although he recovered and came back for another week or so after that. Has been hard to go there since.

As I was saying the other week--memories layered on memories--

The morning is gorgeous. Sunny, yet cool enough for me to wear a light fleece jacket even while frisbeeing and climbing the hill. Quiet at the park; a couple of other people with dogs here and there, but only briefly. We stayed about 45 minutes.

Frisbee games: First we did 15 minutes or more of frisbee. Jake will play forever! And he certainly hasn't slowed down for these games, although he doesn't seem to take flying leaps of quite the same old caliber trying to catch the frisbee. Makes me realize that he's *not* running full/flat out in agility most of the time, seeing him stretch out his body, lower his center of gravity, and move his little legs so fast that he becomes merely a low line of red fur burning across the grass.

Tika likes chasing things. She is so much better about returning the thing she's chasing (not when she's chasing Jake, thank goodness) than she used to be. Used to chase the frisbee, catch it, then drop it. She still loses interest in returning it all the way when she starts to get tired and hot, but she doesn't lose interest in chasing it. Maybe that's her way of getting some breathing room, when I give up and go out to fetch it myself. But as I approach it, she reels in her panting tongue; her eyes get wide; she crouches into a ready stance, paws twitching impatiently, and blasts full speed after it when I throw it again.

She doesn't know how to run at half speed, I think!

My Little Girl Grows Up: Realized how much Tika has learned and matured, though. During our initial frisbee session, someone else brought a dog on leash onto the field with a ball-thrower (think Jai Alai). I called Tika to me and she came straight away. (In fact she's usually quite focused on me while playing frisbee, which is a wonderful thing. Not quite as focused as Jake, but that would be hard for any dog but the most obsessive-compulsive border collie.) I held onto Tika while I discussed over a great distance whether the lady's dog was OK with other dogs. Responses were something like "I think it'll be OK" and "Your dogs aren't agressive, are they? It should be all right--". Not the most enthusiastic I've ever seen, but I went back to playing frisbee anyway. Still, she kept the dog at her side on a leash.

On the next throw or so, Tika dropped the frisbee while I was playing with Jake and veered off towards the other dog, picking up speed as she went. "Teek!" I yelled. "Teek!" She slowed, made a wide curved turn, and came right back to me! Who'd'a thunk I'd see the day? What a lovely girl. We just moved further off down the park with our frisbees.

The first year I had her--and I think even the last couple of times we went to the park--I put her on a 20' long lead and let it trail behind her so that if (or, rather, WHEN) she'd decide she didn't have to come when called, I could eventually catch up to her and stomp/grab the line. I needed to do it, too.

This time, I didn't even think about the long line until we'd been out at the park for quite a while. I let them both out of the car off leash, even though we were on a residential street. In the old days I'd have walked Tika on leash to the park entrance because otherwise she'd have been all over the place. I pointed them in the direction of the entrance and let them go, and both raced in and then turned and waited for me (or, more likely, the frisbees) to catch up.

This Way and That Way: After the initial frisbeeing, we went walking up in the wild, hilly part of the park--you know, The Gopher Hill and The Squirrel Trees. They'd both run, then Tika would veer back to check where I was. Every time I changed direction, I'd yell "Dogs, this way!" which Remington used to respond to so well but Tika used to be oblivious to. This time, she turned and changed her bearing promptly every time, not deciding to make her own decision about which way This Way should be. She came every time I explicitly called her, too. (I did have goodies in my pocket; sometimes she came without me calling just to see whether I was a good person to visit--and half the time I was, giving her a goodie just for that respect.)

Jake was a butthead, or else he realy is going deaf. He didn't respond to "Jake, Come!" at all unless he was within about 10 feet of me. Didn't respond to "Jake!" at all unless I really yelled it, which I hesitated to do much, as the park backs up against residences and it was early on Sunday (before 9). But he would occasionally lift his head from whatever fascinating Element of Nature he had discovered to see what Tika and I were up to, and then would come flying across the field or up the hill, his wonderful floppy ears soaring alongside his head.

Life Might Be Good: The third time I went up across the hill, I stopped and looked at the view. I realized that in all the times I've been to the park and gone up and down that hill, I've never really looked at the view. Why? Always worried about where the dogs were, because Rem would get it in his head that he was in control of the situation and the fact that *I* was worried because I couldn't see him and was yelling his name didn't affect that, because *he* knew where he was and he knew where *I* was so why should he worry? -- and Jake would follow Rem -- and Tika would get it into her head to blast away in the opposite direction and try to go out one of the park exits--

And the dogs were SO good today and Tika was keeping track of *me* and Jake was generally keeping track of *both* of us, so I could actually stop and relax and lift my eyes to the horizon and see all of Santa Clara Valley spread out before me to my Heart's Delight. It was wonderful.

Who's the wimp? After some good hill climbing and gopher-ghost chasing (didn't actually see any gophers or squirrels this time), we did more frisbee. Tika was really getting warm. As we headed in the general direction of the car, I tossed the frisbee, she grabbed it, veered off to the side where the shadow of a tree fell across the dew-soaked lawn, and shlumped down to the ground to wait for me to come.

Jake was still going--and going--and going--

There's the difference between a 12-year-old dog and a 2-and-a-half-year-old dog. Huh. Former has endless energy and reserves; latter wimps out!

Took them both back to the car off leash. Risky, if there had been a cat around, but it was a quiet residential street with no cars or people in sight.

Tika HAS come such a long way in so many ways!

But she gets so much hotter than Jake, so much faster, and lasting so much longer. Jake is one studly little exerciser. Most of the way home in the car, Tika was still panting full out while Jake had completely relaxed and settled in, gazing around in boredom.

A ten-minute ride home, then Tika--still panting full out from her ordeal at the park--raced out to the back yard full tilt, careered from end to end a dozen times in case there might be invasive species, and leaped back to the deck, bypassing most of the steps, to see whether I was offering breakfast yet. An interesting study in overheating versus basic underlying energy level, perhaps.

It's Been A Year--Part I

I've been very conscious that it's been a year this month since Remington's cancer diagnosis. It's hard to believe. I realize, in rereading my dog_diary entries, that the details are becoming fuzzy. But the emotions are still nearly as fresh as the days they were formed--feeling that my life had collapsed around me, wishing it were a nightmare I'd wake up from.

I was sorting through my Visa bills from last winter, which for some reason I never reconciled with the statements (gee--subconscious mind games?), and it was bad enough having receipt after receipt after receipt, often 2 or 3 a week, with the cancer clinic's name or the emergency clinic name--but then they stopped abruptly after March 8, and that's almost as jarring now as it was then.

And I've been finding that it's just as hard this month to find words for what I'm feeling as it was right after Rem died.

There's Nothing Like Agility In The Rain And Mud!

Thank goodness! Backfill: Nov 16

Scattered Reflections

Casey needs to Think Pink. Mucking around in the garage, turn and step into a shadow--which turns out to be a little black dog with sensitive teeny feet. Toss a t-shirt into the pile of dark laundry--and the shirt rises from the pile in bewilderment. Gaze around the back yard, trying to figure out where the LBD has gone--Ah! There's his toy on the ground, but where--Oh, yeah, standing right over it, but blending into the shadows in the background. How about a Little Pink Dog instead?

Are you deef? Jake's been failing to respond to his name. Unless it's pronounced in a particular way, something akin to this: "Jake. Jake! *Jake!* JAAAAKE!!!!" Is he getting hard of hearing? Some dogs do. (MY ears ring when he squeaks that squeakie a zillion times 5 feet away from me. Rock stars go deaf from all the loud music they create; do dogs go deaf from squeakie concerts?) Or have I discovered yet another trick that I have inadvertently taught my dog--Ya don't hafta respond the first time because she'll yell when she gets serious? Will have to test--

Layers upon layers. Went over to The New Improved Westfield Shoppingtown Oakridge Mall (commonly referred to by locals and oldtimers by the fond name "NIWSOM") (OK, not really, I made that up) yesterday with the dogs. They weren't interested in bathrobes at Macy's, so instead we went for a walk around the lovely new grassy landscaping they've installed along the back side of the block. A nice brisk walk on a crisp fall morning. Except that it's right across the street from the cancer clinic where Remington was treated, and where I walked all the dogs each time Rem came in for an appointment, or walked the other dogs while Rem was in the hospital, or--lump in throat--walked Rem by himself for the very last time, scared to go very far or very long because what would I do if he again went into those horrific convulsions out on a deserted street at 2 in the morning, and what if it killed him right there?
Many, many, many walks, all emotionally laden.
So I can avoid walking the dogs anywhere in that area for the rest of my life, or I can start trying to layer on memories that don't involve Rem's fatal illness, so that that corner of the world is once again safe to walk in. Or am I layering on memories like "I walked here last time because I want to forget about Rem's last illness--I'm walking here this time to forget that last time I walked here to forget Rem's last illness--"?

Poop. What *is* it with people who don't pick up after their dogs? Yeah, it's gross, smelly, disgusting stuff. So why would you think that someone *else* would want to pick it up? Or step in it? Whoever you are, I hope you walk right down the street and step in someone else's dog's poop and that that starts your little pea brain thinking. You bought the dog; you bought the dogfood; you're responsible for the results.

Jake is Top Dog! --Almost--

While looking up something else, I went to the USDAA list of top 200 lifetime agility dogs. The qualifying scores over a lifetime ranged from 89 at the low end (yow! That's a lot of work! And a lot of success!) up to the seemingly unreachable 551.

I decided to find Jake's name on the list of ALL competitors and see how pitiably far behind he was. Much to my surprise--he was listed as having 86 qualifying scores! So I double-checked my own database: Yow! That's a lot of work! And a lot of success! And sure enough, he's got 86! (Is that enough ! for the moment?)

I searched for other dogs in the 88-86 range. He's one of only 4 dogs with 86 points, and there are andother 4 with 87 or 88 points--which means he's currently somewhere between 205th and 208th on the top lifetime achievement list. My heart has flip-flopped.

There are around 5,000 dogs on that list. But that's not all: Those 5,000 are merely the dogs who have made it to the master's level and have managed to earn at least one qualifying score at that level. That doesn't include the thousands of other dogs who never make it (or have not yet made it) past the novice and intermediate levels.

I never feel that successful or that skilled. This is a complete surprise to me and I'm just about crying with delight.

You can't imagine the pressure I feel when my friends, colleagues, classmates, and instructors just about own the top-10, top-lifetime, and top-200 list, and then I come home from a cruddy weekend with no--none--zilch--nada--qualifying scores. Not that I'm competitive--

I'm both very lucky and very challenged to be doing agility in the SF Bay area, where there are so many top-notch competitors and instructors.

Now I have a reason to live! Maybe I should throw myself at a few more USDAA trials, even if they are in SoCal, to try to make it officially onto that 200 list! It's very doable--not all of the dogs in that range are competiting any longer (sadly, one of the 89-Q handlers died just last week).

By comparison, Remington and I had accrued only 24.

By another comparison--Jim Basic's swift has 87 *Gamblers Qs alone*. Now THAT's a Yow.

A Gamblin' Hound

Tika and I took a one-day gambling seminar Sunday up at Power Paws Agility. Our instructor, Jim Basic (who's one of our regular instructors anyway) probably has more gamblers legs in USDAA than all other dogs combined.

OK--I exaggerate--but it'll be amazing if anyone ever catches up to his combined scores for Mick and Swift. [This link shows the top 22" and 26" dogs Master Gambler (MG) lifetime points; previous page shows top 12" and 16" MG lifetime points.] [Our other regular instructors are Nancy Gyes and Rachel Sanders, whom you'll also see featured in these lists.]

It was supposedly for masters dogs (all the other dogs are at the masters level, working on their championships, and Tika's still just a babydog, really). She did *great*. True, she's my third dog and I have practiced some gambling maneuvers with her, but she was no worse than any of the other dogs there and sometimes even better.

We still have some problems: She went off to investigate the sheep or llama a couple of times; went in search of food on the ground a couple of times; ran off wantonly a couple of times; stood up at the start line almost EVERY bloody time--I don't know what I'm going to do with that! But she ran so well and worked so nicely at a distance, and her Turn command response was gorgeous.

Now if only we can get those pesky up contacts on the dogwalk--

Hoping to deal with that in a couple of weeks. We've signed up for a Susan Garrett seminar focusing on weaves and contacts and I'm hoping that we can come up with a plan both for that up contact and for speeding up her down contacts. Rachel has suggestions, but it will be nice also to work with the acknowledged master.

A Throng of Dogs

I believe that the household dogs have achieved thronghood. Pack doesn't seem like quite the right word--this implies some order among and ordering of beasts. I no longer have 2 individual identifiable dogs. With the addition of Casey, now when the three of them are on the move, it seems like multitudes. An amorphous mass of canininity. There might be three; there might be thirty; it's hard to tell. I suspect that they are moving in and out of alternate space-time continuums, so that it's impossible to count the true quantity in this here and this now.

With Jake, Tika, and Remington, we seldom achieved this oneness of togetherness; Rem was too stand-offish, Jake was too snappity around him, and Tika was too cautious of the Old Boy Network. There were rare occasions when they bounced off of each other with impunity, but this new threesome has achieved a Brownian activity level that's stunning in its complexity.

And I thought that Tika and Jake were way too noisy when greeting guests--Casey outdoes them with a shrieking, wavering yowl that sets one's ears to ringing. We're working on that, too... If they weren't all so damned cute, I'd become a cat person.

Progress Does Happen

It doesn't seem that long ago that Tika wouldn't stay at the start line, flew off her contacts, ran off during class to chase squirrels--she has been a delight last week and this week in class. Again, she started to dash away from me a couple of times but came back almost immediately when I called her. I was having some rough times with my body language on some interesting rear crosses in class today and kept mucking up, and she was very patient with me. Kept coming back for more instead of starting to sniff (displacement) or heading off after squirrels. What an excellent beast.

She's still standing up at the start line, though. Instructor pointed out that she's done it just after I've given her a treat for sitting, and also suggested that I might try walking around behind her first and then walking away. So the last two runs I didn't give her a goodie just before leaving her, and one time I walked behind her and the other time I stepped away from her laterally before going forward, and both times she stayed in the sit. So that might help.

Foot Space

And in our Where Should I Put My Feet department, things are changing with Casey around.

I often have a dog (Jake or Tika or, in the old days, Remington) lying at, around, on, or under my feet under my desk. Usually when they want something, but often just because they can. In the last week, I often discover that there's a dog under there but Jake and Tika are spread flat out in other parts of the room or house. So Casey's not even my dog and he's taking over that spot when his mom's not around.

Much to my surprise, earlier this evening BOTH Tika and Casey ended up lying under my desk, fortunately without snarging and hackling. I turned to Jake, who was lying alongside my desk just about under the wheels of my chair, and asked, "Why is it that I now have *two* dogs under my desk?"

"Clearly," he said clearly, "because there isn't room for *three.*"

Fur Mat's Last Theorum

It occurred to me in a flash of brilliance today that, for dog quantities greater than 2, there is no number of grooming sessions that will remove sufficient fur to prevent either matting that requires trimming out with scissors or the gross distribution of fur particles across every point in a plane consisting of the concatenation of all vertical and horizontal surfaces in the house including dark-colored clothing.

I can prove it, too, and I'd scribble the proof in the margin here except that blogs don't seem to have margins.

For more information, go here.

Dogfood Savings Time

I think I know what's going on.

For months, my dogs have started pestering me around 4:30 or 5:00, hinting none-to-subtley (chin on lap, heavily panting moist air and drooling, for example) that surely it must be dinnertime. This is odd because I've usually fed them at 6:00 or later, and they're usually quite talented at figuring out these oddly willful habits of mine.

But now it's starting around 3:30 or 4:00. There can be only one reason: Dogs have decided that they're all for Spring Forward One Hour--food comes an hour sooner, as does playtime, walktime, and all the good things in life. But they have elected not to honor Fall Back One Hour. Imagine the audacity of we human-like beings, thinking it would be satisfactory to *delay* the onset of dinnertime.

So I'm pretty sure the Spring Forwards are becoming cumulative, with no Fall Backs to offset them.

I'll think about this more, after I've fed the dogs.

All's Quiet and Rowdy on the Western Front

After we got home from class, all dogs got their breakfast and ate it cheerfully. Tika and Casey started cavorting in the house, getting Jake revved up with mixed feelings. I chased them outside and the 2 youngsters went out on the lawn to play enthusiastically. First time I've really seen them let loose with each other. (Jake stayed under my desk, licking his paws in a sedate and self-satisfied manner.)

A while later, when the playing revved up again, Jake looked like he wanted to join in but didn't know how. After Tika collapsed in the hallway for a breather, Jake started whining at Casey, wagging his tail, sniffing; Casey tried bouncing into a playful chase once or twice but Jake, as usual, turned half away and seemed annoyed--yeah, like he doesn't know *how* to play. We'll see where this goes. I've never seen Jake play with another dog in all the 5 (?) years I've had him, although his previous foster-mom said he used to play with her other dogs, playing keep-away anyway and leading them on a merry chase.

Later, Tika and Jake goaded Casey into digging around in the greenhouse, where a large shallow planter dish was apparently clogged and not draining, converting its content into mud soup. I don't know what he did in there--digging, I suppose--I saw Jake and Tika standing to either side of him, watching intently, so I gather it was some kind of hazing ritual. Because, when the phone rang just as I was going out to investigate, I was distracted long enough for the little black dog to get smothered with muck. When I hung up, the dogs came charging into the house through the sliding door in the office, across the carpet, up the stairs, into the dining area and around the corner into the kitchen. To my great dismay, Casey was not only leaving huge gloppy muddy footprints across the carpet and floor, but he was so covered with drippy muddy goop, that, when he ran, every step sprayed muddy globules in every direction.

What a cleanup! I hosed him down outside first (another learning experience for the little guy), Jake and Tika (both perfectly clean) grinning at him from the sidelines, and then I wiped him down with a towel. However, by that time Jake decided he didn't like all the attention that I was giving Casey, so he pushed in and a little bit of snarling and a not-quite-fight ensued until I could push Jake away.

What a mess. Sheesh.

Tika's A Good Girl In Class

Wow! A successful morning! I'm still learning and relearning how to handle tight turns, serpentines, threadles, but Tika was an excellent girl today. Started to move away from me twice, but came back immediately when I called her, rather than running off to explore or to rouse imaginary squirrels. What a good girl! Jeez, it's been months since she hasn't gone off at least once during class, it seems.

Got all her contacts. Sat at the start line and stayed every time, even when another dog who was playing tug-o-war with his handler backed into her. What a gal!

Casey Fits In

Monday night, after Jake & Casey had done some posturing, we went to bed. Tika as usual hogged my side of the bed while I brushed my teeth and all; Jake as usual settled into Tika's usual spot while Tika was busy homesteading my side of the bed. When I stuck my feet under the covers, usually Tika moves, then Jake moves, and the Natural Order is restored. However, this time as Tika stepped over Jake (his back was to her), he jumped up and attacked her.

I know that this is because he's on edge because of the new dog. He hasn't done that to her since the first month or two she was here (a year and a half ago) and she was doing big-puppy-annoying sorts of things in his face.

She didn't want to get back on the bed after that; kept going into the small closet near the bed instead. (Note that Tika's twice Jake's size and quite a brazen hussy, normally.) Sooooooo I got up, put on my bathrobe, went downstairs, let both dogs out; they charged out into the yard in their usual perimeter-clearing mode, and eventually came back in.

Then everything was set right, and we could go back upstairs as normal and go to bed as normal and no feelings were permanently hurt.

This morning, Tika continued to sneak into Casey's room and eat his food. His mom said, hmm, maybe Casey needs to learn to eat at a fixed time, so I said I'd feed him when I fed my dogs.

I warned her that dogs who are slow, picky eaters and who've been allowed to free feed sometimes won't eat for 2 or 3 times but then would eat when they got hungry enough.

For breakfast I gave my dogs their food; made Casey sit and wait for his food just like my dogs do. When I told him OK, he sniffed at it, walked around a little bit (not going too far), thought about it for about 30 seconds, and then carefully ate it all, one dainty morsel at a time. Surprised everyone except, probably, himself, who undoubtedly deliberately had us all going on what a delicate flower of doghood he was.

Jake the Snookering Man

On Sunday, Jake had a lovely 51-point snooker run, with a time that beat the only other Open dog (combined heights) with 51 pts, for a Super-Q, which was that annoyingly elusive 3rd Super-Q that he needed for his Performance Snooker (PS) title.

Imagine my suprise when his Performance Snooker certificate arrived in the mail on Monday! You seldom see service SO fast!

Of course what that meant was that one of his earlier 1sts, which I thought wasn't a superQ because of combining jump hts, was in fact the top score even after combining (I checked w/USDAA), so we really earned the title back at the Bay Team Labor Day weekend trial.

Now it's back to those pesky gambles, which we can't get for heck or high water since we finished our CH's... Still need 2 to finish our Performance Dog Championship-equivalent.

Bad Saturday, Good Sunday

USDAA trial in Madera. We could've stayed home Saturday. We all did crappy. I felt so tired, as if my legs weighed 400 pounds each. As if I'd gone suddenly from sea level to 8000 feet and was trying to get around. It was hard to keep my own energy up, let alone keep my dogs focused and enthused. Don't know why. Did get up at 4 a.m. but I also went to bed & to sleep not long after 8 Friday night.

Jake's Saturday: Jake had a decent gamblers opening sequence, our timing was perfect (unlike last weekend where i called him off the gamble both times) but then I did a stupid cross-behind as he was approaching the first obstacle and pulled him off it.

He was very slow in his standard course and I think I ran him on an off-course early on.

In the Grand Prix national qualifier, he was slow and also started going around jumps. This is not like Jake. I entered him at standard 22", but I haven't been practicing much at 22"--just occasional jumping sequences in the yard. Mostly in training and competition he's been doing 16". Maybe it really is time to give up and not try him at 22" in these qualifiers any more. He *is* going to be 12 next month.

Tika's Saturday:

Sat. Pairs: missed up contact on dogwalk and knocked the preceding bar (a turn). But fast. And good contacts. Fast enough, along with her fast partner, to make up for the errors and take 2nd out of 10 teams.

Sat. Gamblers: Same opening as pairs, didn't knock bar, apparently got *2* up contacts on DW OK because we got points for both. A very nice run, good contacts (2 dogwalks & 2 Aframes), but knocked a bar in the gamble so didn't get credit for it. Dang.

Sat. Std: Same opening again, didn't knock bar, missed up on on the dogwalk, took an off course, and then flew off the Aframe. That ended THAT run.

Grand Prix: Stood up at start line to investigate a bunch of food that she had found in the grass while we were waiting to go in. Left teeter and Afr early and I made her come back each time--for 2 refusals (at least I think that's what the 10 faults were for--I think my watchers said that she wasn't called for the up on the DW).

Jake's Sunday: MUCH better.

Standard: Fairly fast although not super-zippy; looked like he popped his dogwalk but judge didn't call it, so we got a Q and a 2nd place.

Jumpers: A nice fast run--could've been tighter on a couple of turns but I was happy with it. Couldn't beat a very fast border collie, but we took 2nd place again.

Snooker: I've been desperate to get that third super-Q to finish our Performance Snooker title. This particular course lent itself to doing all three 7s in the opening, so I knew it would be a speed course rather than a handling course, and we have trouble beating others on speed because he's at the short end of his height range. But we executed perfectly and it turns out that almost everyone else messed up, so he earned a first and the lovely Super-Q. Happy mom.

Tika's Sunday:

Sun Std: Missed up on dogwalk but otherwise an excellent run. Sigh. I really want that third Novice qualifying leg so we can move up to Advanced, but it looks like, unless we can fix this up-dogwalk-contact problem, we're not going to get there quickly. At least I now have 2 solid weekends of videos, so hopefully our instructor can analyze what she's doing and we can come up with a plan. On the other hand--lots of other dogs messed up, too, and again she was fast enough that she took 3rd out of about 10 dogs.

Sun Jumpers: Knocked a bar that I had been worried about but mostly smooth and, again, very fast--still fast enough for 2nd place. Had she been half a second faster, she'd have taken 1st--making up for the 5-point fault by beating the first-place dog by 5 seconds.

Sun Snooker: Dagnabbit, went AROUND first jump at an angled lead-out pivot attempt. I need to work on this-- I had planned 2 DWs in that run for more opportunities for filming, but, oh, well. Another 0-point snooker run.

STANDING UP AT STARTLINE: Man, I've been practicing this for 2 weeks. Tossing food. Running jake in front of her. Sometimes doing obstacles, sometimes not. Me running, me stopping. Tossing her favorite toy. Sitting while I get dressed, while I pick up dog messes in the yard, while I sweep the floor, anything I can think of. She mostly holds that little start very nicely. But in class & at competition, she stands up. Sits down again when I tell her to, or else instead of standing up, lies down. We'll see how she does Wed. in class.

New Roommate/Dogmate

We have a new dog in the house--oh, yeah, and the lady who comes with the dog and is also now sharing our house. Casey is a little black dog. Very sweet.

When we got home from the USDAA trial late Sunday afternoon, Casey met us at the door from the garage. He greeted me with delight but there was much consternation among the various dogs about the change in canine counts. They had already met twice before, briefly, but this was the first time that Casey had actually moved in.

As I was unloading, I realized that my two beasties had vanished from the scene. Back out to the garage--Jake (who likes to follow me around so he knows where I am) had jumped back up into the van seat in which he travels; Tika (who'd always rather be checking out the universe than in the crate in the back of the van) was in the crate in the back of the van. "OK, mom," they said, "you obviously don't understand the Correct World Order. Let's get back in the car and try coming home again--"

I encouraged them to come into the house, where they then hid up in the bedroom for a while.

Jake and Casey had a spat at the top of the stairs while we were standing at the top and Casey & his mom were coming up. I couldn't tell who started it, but we separated them fairly easily, with Tika yelling "get 'im! get 'im!" and jumping around in the background.

Another brief snarling bit when Casey & mom went out the front door and came back in shortly thereafter, and Jake and Tika had their noses right at the door while they tried to come in.

Casey's food is left out for him all the time. Tika has availed herself of this feature, going into their bedroom to snarf the kibble. Casey isn't getting much to eat.

A Gimble Gamble

Jake and I got a difficult gamble last weekend that stymied all but 3 Elite and 1 Open dog (and we were over time due to stuff *before* the gamble, but that wasn't Jake's fault, and we GOT it).

Here's the situation: Handler has to stay outside the dotted line. Dog has to take the teeter-totter (#1), into the right side of the tunnel, then out over jumps #3 and 4.


When we all walked it ahead of time, we thought that the thing to do would be to hang back (A1) as the dog went up the teeter, take one step out (A2) as the dog got to the bottom of the teeter, giving a good strong "out" command, then back up a step and start running (A3) as the dog came out of the tunnel.

The problem with this was that the dog was looking back over its left shoulder at you as he did the teeter, so giving an "out" from that position (pushing the dog away from you) simply pushed him into the left side of the tunnel.

We already knew that going out to B1 to give the "out" might get the dog into the tunnel, but the dogs would come out of the tunnel so fast that they'd catch us running back along the diagonal line and we wouldn't be in a position to push them to the remaining jumps, although a couple of people tried it anyway.

The only solution that worked (Jake & I did it, but only after watching the other successful 2 gamblers) was to go out to B1 to give the "out" to the far side of the tunnel, then step further in to give the dog ANOTHER "out" to the first jump as he came out of the tunnel.

Most dogs who have been trained to take obstacles straight out away from their handlers have learned to do more than one jump in a row that way, although we almost never see a situation where that's necessary on the course with the handler standing completely still.

So after the dog turned and headed toward the jump, you had to keep your hand and arm pressure out, and continue giving your "go on/jump" commands, "go jump!" in our case.

This is the second time I've seen a gamble like this, where that was pretty much the only solution to getting the dog through it (and oddly enough 2 of the 3 dogs that did it this time were the same ones who did it then, if I remember correctly--my Jake and Ron's Meg).

Clarifying the Gobbledygook

I'm working on adding some links at the top of the page to give background info for all of my agility ramblings. Might take a while to find or create what I want.

Tika and Jake. Very much here.

Hard to write about a loss and a success in the same heartbeats. But they're both on my mind.

This most recent weekend, we competed in a NADAC trial at Laguna Seca, with racecars growling along the hills on either side of us. Each dog had 10 runs for the weekend. I walked--according to my trusty sidekick Ped-O-Meter--10 miles each day. It was a small, fairly quiet, pleasant site, so I'm surprised at the mileage.

Tika Summary: Tika is like a brand-new dog, at the previous competition and at this one, but this time I didn't make quite so many Stupid Handler Tricks. Contacts were great (She left an Aframe contact early once (after Good Girl but before OK), and I made her come back and do a Behind before going on--). Weaves were great. She grabbed towards my feet only twice, only after the finish, and backed off immediately.

She earned qualifying scores in 7 of them, including (dag-nab it) all 4 Standard runs (clean, 1st place) when all she needed for her Open title was 1/2 Q and they weren't doing move-ups!

Everything felt SO smooth and SO connected and, oh my, wow, it was exhilarating.

Tika Feels The Need For Speed: She was faster than all 25-or-so Open (intermediate) dogs in both of her Jumpers courses--by 2 seconds or more (with times of 18.79, 19.3--that's about 10% faster than any other dog. Whoooo.) She was faster than all Open dogs in all 4 of her Standard courses by 4 to 7 seconds (with only a couple of exceptions); with times in the 37-to-39-second range, that's 10-15% faster than any other dog.

In Tunnelers--where *all* dogs, all levels, use the same course--we had 2 slight bobbles but she was still 7th fastest of all 94 dogs at the trial--at a blazing speed of 7.03 yards per second, the fastest that any of my dogs have ever achieved on an agility course. Of course, that's a course with nothing but tunnels, so except for turns and some lowering of the body, they're basically running straight out.

In Weavers (only tunnels and sets of weave poles), I made one of my weekend's rare bobbles and she ran past the entry to the first set of weaves--but even so, she was 5th fastest of all 60 dogs, *all* levels, *all* heights running the same course. Yowza. For comparison to tunnelers, her blazing-fast weavers time was a mere 4.17 yards per second.

Jake's Weekend: He got most of his dogwalk contacts this time like a good boy. Ran nicely with only one noticeable disconnect between him and his handler. Won several of his classes.

Looking at this photo, you'd be hard-pressed to guess that Jake never knocks bars when jumping. He's such a talented jumper. He could jump as high, or higher, than Remington could--well over 40" when pushed to the limits one day.

Results Here's an experiment: Table of results from last weekend's trial, for my dogs only.


...More in a bit...postus interruptus...

Remington. Still Gone. Still Here.

7 months and a week. I wonder and wonder when the sharp pain will fade to comfortable memories. I think about Amber, now, and find only quiet, warm, increasingly spare recollections. (If my mind's lens zooms in onto the morning she died, I can still cry.) But it was 2 years--two!--after she died before I could get around the untidy emotional lump that filled my available dog-loving spaces to think about getting another dog. And it was months after Remington came home before I managed to stop comparing him at every misbehavior to beautiful Amber.

So I know that I have a long way to go. One is supposed to learn such things from history.

At a stationery shop, browsing through greeting cards. A big yellow dog stands alone, quietly gazing at the invitation offered by a half-frozen stream meandering into the distance among misty trees. Just like Remington, standing on the edge of the path plowed through the Oregon forest, its surface hidden beneath February's winter water and ice, crowded on either side by the forest's understory. Gazing into the distance, wanting as always to explore strange new worlds but not at the cost of walking through icy slush, quiet, perhaps gazing farther than I can possibly see, around the bend, just three weeks further on and an infinite distance beyond where I can walk--I, suspecting that his tumor had again begun to hemorrhage but not yet knowing for sure, wanting to take him walking and walking forever, never stopping, but stymied by the deep and freezing waters.

Now it's a week later and I had to go back and buy that photo. I took none in those frosty Klamath woods while we were there. Photo by Keith Carter

Feet-Free Weekend

And, oh yeah, Tika didn't grab at my feet in the ring even *once*! After the finish line she's still making a little lunge for them, but isn't insistent, and backs off after I get her to offer a Paw.

Hurrah hurrah hurrah!

A Disappointing Weekend. But Fun. Yes. Fun. Yes. Keep Saying It--

This last weekend we stayed home. Probably just as well. My ravaged soul needed a respite from the slings and arrows of outrageous agility.

Two weekends ago--USDAA--Woodland (near Davis). Two dogs. No Qualifying runs. Not one. Not all weekend. In the 102 weekends of agility since I started, when I've had 2 dogs competing, this has happened exactly--um, was going to say 1 other time. But there also came 2 weekends last fall while Jake was injured, Rem was running very badly and I didn't know why yet (would find out in a matter of days), and Tika was entered in only1 run a day, where we also came home with no Qs. But I'm not counting those as *real* weekends.

But this isn't supposed to happen! Not to an experienced handler and an experienced dog AND the new/fast/wunderhundkind, all in the same weekend.

How depressing.

Repeat the mantra: "We're doing this for FUN. We're doing this for FUN."

Tika actually ran very nicely, except for one round where she discovered that Horses Inhabit The Earth and went off to tell them that they'd better not THINK about leaving their corral on her shift. At least 2 other rounds I just did stupid handler things. Maybe 3 other rounds. A couple of rounds she knocked a bar, which I'm not blaming her for yet--we just need lots and lots and lots of practice in different situations. Rem & Jake virtually never knocked bars, ever, so this is new for me, too. And she paid attention and got all her contacts and ran like the wind (but with more agile turns and less dust).

Jake, on the other hand, was a puzzle. I've been saying this more and more--we just weren't in synch. He did things that I never would have expected--and didn't do things that I'd have taken for granted he'd do. And he was often slow (never is in class--this is starting to look like a mid-career-Remington syndrome--am I putting too much pressure on the boy?). And he didn't get hardly a single contact correctly (he's doing them in class SOOOOO PERFECTLY! It's SOOOOOO frustrating).

We did have a couple of runs that were pretty nice most of the way through but got bobbled one way or another. he got really turned on in one of the gamblers courses and had a spectacular opening sequence--and then missed a pretty easy gamble ( (a) I probably could have handled it better but (b) he slowed and stopped and came back to me instead of carrying out, and he carries out GREAT normally). Argh.

So I sat in my van and cried for 10 minutes before heading home.

By that evening, I couldn't quite grasp why I had been so completely devastated. I have such good, clever, cute, funny, smart dogs, so what's a sucky weekend or 2? And Jake has earned 3 championships (many many dogs will never earn even one) AND he'll be 12 in a month and many dogs are retired from agility at 8 or 9, so... count those blessings.

But I'd really like to not do that again.

For Better or For Worse

No matter how bad you've got it, someone else has it worse. No matter how bad you've got it, you've also probably got something better than everyone else, too.

I suppose there are exceptions.

But I'm thinking of one of my agility instructors. One of the top competitors in the country and, in fact, in the world. Has been a national agility champion repeatedly with multiple dogs--and that's *hard*. Has placed first in the world in at least one category and has made the U.S. World Cup team with two of her dogs at different times. She works hard for her success.

Her first and favorite border collie, with whom she first won the Nationals and with whom she first placed higher than any other U.S. dog at the Worlds up to that time, was diagnosed with lymphoma 4 years ago. They've worked just as hard at beating that, but between that and a neck injury in the dog, he had to retire from agility much earlier than he might have otherwise. Meanwhile, she's trained 3 other dogs.

Her 2nd World Cup dog has been on the team for 3 years, I think. This is also amazing. Only 5? large dogs from the U.S. are chosen to compete, and you've got to work hard and be extremely successful each year to be chosen for the team each time. The only way to guarantee yourself a spot on the team is to win the AKC Invitational. This year, they won the Invitational--and the dog started showing signs of discomfort. They got a wrong diagnosis, and by the time they got the correct diagnosis (because the problem wasn't getting better), it was too late for rehabilitation in time to go to the World Championships. It's a soft-tissue injury and fully recoverable, but she won't compete with him if he's not in perfect shape.

Then, in the same week that she had to make the hard decision to withdraw from the World Cup team, her first dog succumbed to the lymphoma.

I can just barely grasp how she must feel. In the same week that Rem was diagnosed with fatal cancer, Jake came up in pain and I had to put him on 6 weeks' rest and rehabilitation. I went suddenly from having 2 dogs competing at the top levels of agility to facing the possibility of no dogs (until Tika became ready). But even this seems to pale in comparison.

She's probably a stronger person than I am. But I'd guess that when you're on the top of the world the fall is a lot harder--

There are so many tragedies, when your companions have a life expectancy of barely more than a dozen years to begin with. But there are also so many success stories. So many dogs and handlers out there have a story of odds they've overcome, and I find myself relating those stories whenever someone new comes to watch a competition.

Everybody Ought To Have A Webmaster--Fiddling About--

Redid archives by month rather than by week. Playing with format. Haven't decided I like the new format yet. If only I were a genius of Web-page design.

If only I were so wealthy that I couldn't even understand how much money I had. If only I didn't gain weight when I ate all the peppermintstick ice cream with chocolate sprinkles that I wanted. If only Saddam Hussein and Osama Bin Laden took a disliking to each other at a cocktail party and focused their disaffections one upon the other. If only dogs came in purple. If only I didn't need to sleep and could fiddle about all night.

Hours at the keyboard, and I'm still not happy with it. Dogs think I'm boring. I tell them, "I am doing this for YOU," as I have told them many times before. They express dubiousness.

Catching Up. Or Not.

Things have not been slow, no no. Meant to describe our successes (many) and failures (not too many) at our Sunnyvale Labor Day Weekend agility trial. 31 runs in one weekend! And I didn't enter Jake in everything--

But I'm tired and busy, so instead I think I'll take a nap.

Meanwhile, so you have something to do while I'm snoozing rather than wandering into traffic or playing in the gutter, you can admire these photos of Jake and Tika, taken by Richard Todd Photography at an August trial.

Jake getting his feet in that Dogwalk contact zone--for a change--but he's about to take a flying leap rather than waiting for instructions from the pilot.

Flying Semidachshundman

I would guess I was trying to get her to go in the direction *I'm* facing, not the direction *she's* facing. But, whatever she's doing, she's sure doing it fast--look how she's leaning into that turn.

An excellent sticky contact. Why am I standing there looking at her? Aren't I supposed to be getting ready to go somewhere? In fact, I'm undoubtedly saying "Goooooood girrrrrrrrl!" and making sure that she *does* wait for instructions from the pilot.

Don't let the look fool you--this ain't no bored beast. And you wouldn't be, either, if you had to think--and move--faster than she runs!