The show will go on

You know the adage about a terrible dress rehearsal leading to a great show? Pray it works for me.

Roc and I are entered in Open A in an obedience trial on Sunday. It's not just any trial, either. It's our own club's show. Which means we'll know just about everybody there. And he was a complete goofus in training last night.

Roc looked at me with those gorgeous, melting brown eyes and as much as said "Sit? What is this sit? Have I ever heard this word before?" "Stay" was equally incomprehensible.

Sometimes you just have to wonder what goes on in that tiny little head.

The Unexpected Princess

I think I've mentioned before that Golly's not really into playing. She's the diva of the pack - aloof and above the crowd. But last night she forgot herself - she chose one toy after another and chased, and tugged, and chewed, and teased!

Golly grabbed one toy and presented it to me for chasing purposes - I would scooch it along the floor, she would try to grab it, then when she succeeded in that, ran a little bit away and teased.

Then, when that got old (after about a minute), she decided she didn't want to play any more. But she saw how much fun her siblings were having during the play session and went shopping for another toy. She chose a stuffed frog toy that her French Bulldog sister, Dax, had disembowelled. (Picture a frog-skin rug in plush!) She took that frog skin and jumped up on the chair with it. (Our house is very dog-friendly with towels and throws over all the furniture.) She teased her brother, Roc, with it - showing it to him then taking it away. Naturally, he grabbed for it and a tug-of-war ensued. Roc won. So, Golly was miffed and decided to sulk.

But the kids' alloted 13 minutes of play time after dinner wasn't over yet (we set the timer so that Ceilidh has uninterrupted play time and then leaves us alone for the rest of the evening). And Golly decided to grab another toy. This was another plush toy that we, naturally, had considered throwing out because no one had paid any attention to it for months! Always the unexpected from Golly!

Dues? All paid up!

Yesterday a friend asked me to write a reference for him. He's up for a position as a dog trainer. I'm happy to do it - but I gasped. For a moment it seemed the height of absurdity to me. This is the man who introduced me to the joys of dog training - who is single-handedly responsible for turning me into a 24-hour-a-day, seven-day-a-week dog nut. It seems the moment has come - I'm officially a colleague of my mentor! I have arrived!

When I met Frank I was so clueless I was pitiful. My little dog was not socialized, unfriendly, shy and fear-aggressive. And this was the same dog who, with Frank's help, was my partner in my very first obedience competition ever. Of course, he completely hated it and we disqualified immediately (Whimsy would only heel as far away from the judge as possible. He hugged the wall on the side away from the judge - keeping up with me perfectly. Unfortunately, the wall was on my right.). I never entered him in another trial - but he was a happier and more social dog because of Frank's instruction.

And I'm a better and happier person because of Frank's classes, too. I've met so many wonderful friends through our involvement with dogs. And I love it when I can say "come" and my dog actually does - even when the Boxer across the alley is much more interesting!

If it's Friday...

If today's Friday, that means that yesterday was ... yup, Agility Class! As you may know, I take Ceilidh, my 5-year-old Boston Terrier nut to play at Agility. For you dog-lovers who've never seen Agility, it's a blast! It's like a set obstacle course for dogs, with jumps, tunnels, teeter-totters, elevated ramps to walk on, A-Frames to climb, and poles to weave through (the dog, not the handler). The person must tell the dog which obstacle to take, in a specific order, and in competition, below a specified time in order to qualify for various titles.

Class is always fun. Everyone celebrates each others' victories, commiserates over defeats. Last night we were celebrating a new championship title in the breed ring! Annie the Giant Schnauzer is now a breed champion! And Annie was celebrating, too! She was romping all around the room, not paying attention to her mom, just having a great time! And if you've never seen a Giant Schnauzer romping, let your imagination go wild!

A couple of weeks ago our instructor told me it was high time to enter a trial or two. Yikes! Ceilidh's ready, it's me I'm worried about! But, just to show she was a star, that evening Ceilidh ran through the weave poles (the right way!) without my running alongside! Of course, last night she didn't know what weave poles were!

Just when you think they've got a clue

A couple of weeks ago when I blogged about the big, bad, 10-pound Roc, I mentioned that Staffy Bull Ben is scared of him. Last night in training, I learned why that may be so.

After class a few of us were standing around schmoozing, talking about our upcoming Obedience Trial, while the Novice Class was going on in the next ring. I was rudely interrupted by Roc snarking and sounding generally vicious. After a quick correction I looked to see who he's fussing at. It's an inquisitive, but very nice Standard Poodle. She was looking at him like she couldn't believe all that noise came out of that tiny plush toy. The poodle probably shouldn't have been sticking its head out of its own ring and into Roc's face, but that's no excuse for his reaction.

Fortunately, no harm was done, except to whatever reputation I may have had as a trainer. I really thought the little dude was getting better. It may be another case of "two steps forward and one step back" but we're going keep a careful eye on that boy.

Her own twist on training

This morning I tried a new training experiment with Golly. She'll run outside, do her business, then sit against the fence while everybody else is sniffing, roaming, etc.

It would be fine, but she barks. Not big or hysterical barking, just a single "bupp" at regular intervals - about every 15 seconds or so. Not incredibly irritating, but annoying over a period of time.

So I stood next to her and tapped the top of her head, gently, every time she "bupp"ed. And after about three repetitions, did she stop "bupping?" No. She learned to bupp and duck.

On an ever-spinning reel

A very poignant juxtaposition today among the blogs I follow.

I found out that Touille, a little dog, writer of a little blog, has died.

And HalloweenLover, blogging in lots and lots of nonsense, has announced her pregnancy.

I know, I know. Dogs are not children. But they are beloved. And their lives should be celebrated, too.