WordPlay

DART BEAGLE!

It’s happened AGAIN.

That would be the way my work with critters habitually turns into metaphor for my writing.

While I could be talking about the incredible icy poo-fest that is the barn frontage this particular winter (in fact, given the state of the industry, I probably should be talking about the incredible icy poo-fest that is the barn frontage this particular winter), I’m somehow not.

It’s about tracking, really.  And how being on the end of the tracking line is a whole lot like wrangling the muse.

Every dog has a different style when tracking, but staying on the track is the only way to get the job done.  Enticing crosstracks won’t do it.  Following that just-flushed jackrabbit won’t do it, either.  Following blown scent instead of the actual track isn’t going to get you there, or getting stuck in scent pools won’t get you anywhere at all.

It’s up to the handler to question the dog, create a thoughtful process, and not follow blindly where the dog leads.  After all, if you step out confidently when the dog is merely pondering a crosstrack, then the dog may well rightfully think, “Ah HA!  She wants me to go this way!”

And yes, a writer needs to stay on track.  Both with editorial expectations (some publishers more than others) and with storytelling needs.  As in, there are certain necessary elements for a good story, no matter how many individual ways there are to approach those elements.

At the same time, the handler has to trust the dog.  No human can detect the scent the dog follows; only the dog can say where the track goes.  And while the handler employs an understanding of scent behavior and dog body language to know when to follow freely and when to wait and watch and stay out of the way and when to say, “Are you sure?”, at some point you simply have to trust.  And if you don’t–if you start questioning and hesitating in that moment you should be trusting…then the dog loses confidence.  Shuts down.  Quits.

It’s just the same with writers, right?  A writer needs to follow her muse.  Restrain the muse, and she shuts down.  Tell her no too many times and she flips you a rude gesture.  Ignore her insight, and go down a duller, well-trodden path instead of managing a bright new track through unexplored territory.

Add it all up and it becomes a dance.  Knowing enough about the territory and conditions and expectations–not to mention the muse or the dog–to provide the necessary guidance.  And then, knowing when to just plain trust, even if the track goes in an unexpected direction.

See?  Is that totally a tracking as writing metaphor, or what?

It’s 18F and just barely breaking dawn.  I hope I can read this when we get home–it’s in old pen on cold paper through insulated work gloves.

(added note: in a vague sort of way, yes…)

Poor Spot Focswagon (my old Ford Focus) is laboring under a full load, valiently trying to do the job of the demolished dog van.  Well…a smaller interior heats up faster!

Back at home, ConneryBeagle is singing his song of woe with disbelief on his face.  He and Belle are cozied up in the giant Crate of Convalescence now occupying most of the kitchen.

Normally both would come along simply for the ride (am dog, will travel), but poor little Spot has his limits.

Connery’s just going into his second week of rehab for his stifles and is beginning to realize that he’s still Not Doing Things.  After today he’ll be sure of it.

Fortunately, he’s loving his treadmill work.  We’ve had the thing for a week and I have to keep the door to that crammed little room (reminiscent of Spot at the moment) closed so he won’t duck in when we go by. Recently he and Dart had a spat over who was getting the next turn.

Just as importantly, his gait is growing more confident and regular, and in spite of the steroid in his inhaler, he’s regained a little muscle.  (The treadmill, a cheapo little Sears thing, has also saved our sanity this past week when the snowbound canyon kept atomically vibrating Dart Beagle inside.)

The treadmill puts Connery in an adorable zen state.  He’s more cuddly, softer in expression, and more relaxed overall.  Ohmmmm.  However, he’s also begun to make observations about his Not Doing Things woe.  He’s always been a yodeler.  Let’s just say he’s getting in a lot of practice.

Five and a half more months, Connery….

It’s cold out.

It’s been cold out and it looks like it’s going to stay that way, with nightly single digits and persistent snow.

We’ve stocked up on wood pellets–a ton of them!

We’ve pulled out all the extra blankets and layers.

We have eggnog.

Also, we have Beagles.  Never is it more evident that the Beagle–as opposed to the Cardigan Welsh Corgi–is a pack dog.  This is when the boys out-snuggle, out-cozy, and out-cute the rest of the world.

Awww!

Awww, yawning!

AWWWW!!!

Like the rest of us have any chance at all.

PS Bonus smile: Here’s ConneryBeagle just learning how to walk on a treadmill for his stifle rehab.

Dart Beagle has a problem.

He’s brilliant.

Dart Beagle has another problem.

He’s impulsively evil.

For Dart Beagle, it’s a constant battle, especially when it comes to the agility field. Brilliance vs impulse? Oh, choices, choices…

The problem for me is, the impulsive behavior is instantly, profoundly self-rewarding. WHEEEEEE! The correct behavior on the agility field–where cookies and toys aren’t allowed–is more of a long-term reward. First, lots of partying at the end of the run.

(Well. If he makes it to the end of the run.)

Second, the gradual realization that the partnership itself is the rewarding thing.

Belle Corgi has always known that final lesson. For her, it was always about what we did together.

Connery loves the partnership–he’s happiest when he feels we’re running the courses together, which means I run alongside him rather than taking an easier handling path. And he is totally about the party–the celebration of self before he runs:

Me: Are you ready?

Connery: YES I AM BAWHHHH!

Not to mention the celebration of BAWHSOMENESS after he’s run. Oh, cookies! Oh Go-Dog sports drink! Oh race-to-the-crate! Oh BAWH!

Neither of them are impulsive dogs.

D’Artagnan Beagle = Prince of Impulse.

His training isn’t the problem. His understanding of the task at hand isn’t the problem. The problem occurs in that one stride when he hits full speed and his brain says, “WHOO HOO LET’S–”

…take all these jumps in an order of my choosing!

…fly out of the ring at top speed to visit that totally strange dog who wants nothing to do with me!

…visit that nice pole setter!

My challenge is ongoing, and the process is very much one step ahead, ten steps behind.  Although I couldn’t ask for a better first four obstacles here…  Those weaves–!  Yeah!

So never mind the trial prep training. Never mind the entry fees. Never mind getting to the trial site, the hotel cost, walking and memorizing the course, or the moments of pre-course doggy psychology. The consequences of “WHOO HOO LET’S–!” turns out to be the end of the fun. No more WHOO, no more HOO. Just, “Oh, dear, I guess you made a bad choice there,” and a boring free heel out of the ring.

Only time will tell if the Impulsive Evil will succumb to consequences, and the Brilliance will out. Until then…it’s all about the willpower. Because looking down into that dismayed little face to say, “Oh, dear, I guess you made a bad choice there” while the rest of the course still stretches out before you…

Oh, I feel the lure of that Impulsive Evil myself!

Cryptic Impulsive Evil

This weekend, the Beagles went flying.

Not exactly in the way I had planned, though.  More like in a Keystone Cops way.

This past weekend we went to an agility trial.  Also, we had Weather, to the tune of slashing ran, gale force winds, and brrrrcold.  And we started out with ground frosty and frozen over recent irrigation.

So on Friday, ConneryBeagle went flying…right through the double jump.

On Saturday, Dart Beagle went flying…blown right off the dogwalk.

On Sunday, which was calm, cold, and sunny, Dart Beagle headed across the dogwalk and went, “Oh!  Yesterday I went flying off this thing!” and promptly tied his legs in knots and flew off again.

On the other paw…

Connery ran strong this past weekend, and looked as good as he has since we started the merry-go-round of his magical inhaler vs the side effects of same.  It’s three months since he started using it, and it’s obvious that it’s not possible to completely resolve his idiopathic headaches, infections, and inflammation without screwing up the rest of his body.  It’s just a matter of finding a decent balance, and hoping for a shift toward overall improvement over time.

But hey!  He Q’d on all his courses except for the one on which he slipped, and he did it with happy vigor.

His jumping style is awry in this photo, but I love it for his soft, intense little expression

And while Dart was busy flying off the dogwalk on the standard course, over on jumpers he qualified every day–if not, shall we say, without a whole lot of wing & a prayer (just to stick with the flying thing). All the same, he had some lovely moments, and I’m slowly learning the things he needs to stay confident.  I’m changing my criteria for contact zone behaviors and I’m learning that he stresses when I decelerate, so I take that into account when I plan my course for him.  It’s unavoidable, but sometimes it can be minimized.

Normally these three qualifying runs would have earned him a title–and I thought it had.  Then I remembered that it takes three legs under TWO different judges, and at this particular trial there was only one judge.  (It’s quite unusual just for that reason.)  We’re traveling for the next trial, which may or may not explode his brain.  We shall have to see!

Meanwhile, I have to admit…although my license plate says Air Beagle (well, all smashed together in 6 letters), this isn’t exactly the kind of flying I was thinking of.  I hope that for a while, we stick to the flying that’s done ON PURPOSE!

PS BONUS VIDEO!  This is a 360 pan of the sky right before it really opened up.  At the time I was recording, it was raining lightly.  And of course, the wind…  (Note the clever movie file name.  Yeah, yeah.)

So many things!  All happening!

There’s the barking dog thing.  Jury’s still out–after three days of blessed silence last week, Thursday and Friday were nonstop barking.  Non.  Freaking.  Stop.  Barking.

Another neighbor thought she had an opportunity to touch base with Barking Dog Neighbor over the weekend.  I need to catch up with her so I have the scoop before I clip request #2 to the gate.

There’s the paddock footing thing–we have a line on some more shreddings, of much better quality than before.  Delivery imminent, we hope!

There’s the ConneryBeagle thing.  We’re still trying to find a balance of his meds and still trying to find ways to support him through this.  He’s looking a little stronger, if not quite himself.  Still, that’s GOOD–and the only reason I can measure it that closely is because of the agility, and my pretty highly honed awareness of how he runs when he’s feeling strong.  He’s pretty cheerful, and that’s great–and he certainly still thinks his agility and his tracking are great fun.

In fact–moving onto the next thing–he had a chance to do both this weekend.  He and Dart headed to a local UKI trial, our first real experience with this new venue.  The courses were European in style, and lots of fun, and the venue was small and friendly.  We ran our first Speedstakes courses, and our very first snooker.  Whee!

Dart grabbed a couple of Qs–and somehow kept enough brains to mainly stay inside the rings.  ConneryBeagle would have Q’d in all his runs had he not slipped in the thick, long and really wet grass to take down a bar.  So, yeah–fun!

Where, you ask, did the tracking come in?  Out in the trial’s huge off-leash play area, the grass and clover were equally thick and deep, and a friend’s small dog lost a couple of favorite toys in it–toys the combined efforts of the rest of us couldn’t find.  So Connery put on his tracking harness, played a few article indication games with the dog’s remaining toys, and made the conceptual leap to my request to search out additional toys.

Which he found.

SO PROUD!!

Oh, there’s the book thing: as of today, the second draft pass is done for Tiger Bound, the next Nocturne Sentinel.  There are a few more details to polish up, and then off it goes to my editor!

And then, finally, there’s the backlist ebook thing.  I’m having such fun with the covers, I’m still poking away at them in the midst of everything.  So without further ado, here’s Feef’s House!

$.99
First Released: 2003, DAW anthology Space, Inc.
Backlist eBooks Store: All Formats

Feef is a smelly, insecure little creature who calls the Toklaat Space Station home. Shadia is a tough, independent itinerant worker who calls no place home—until the day Feef needs help…and offers her something priceless in return.

“Durgin has a remarkable gift for inventing unusual characters doing incredible things.”
–Kliatt

[included in The Heart of Dog anthology]

You know, when I started last Monday’s blog, I had no intention of writing about Belle Cardigan.  In fact, I had a little video of Dart I wanted to put up.

Anyway, as with books, sometimes blogs have a mind of their own.  Before you know it, I was in fact writing about Belle.  You know…how she started training at age two, blew through to Excellent B with mostly straight Qs and firsts (she was jumping four inches higher at that point) and rivaled the times of dogs through all the height classes.

And then of course she hit age five, developed a genetic disk calcification condition that had nothing to do with agility, became partially paralyzed for a while…

Rehab and flares and rehab and flares…

She wasn’t supposed to be able to run again, but she obviously did–in fact, it actually kept her strong.   In between her calcification flares–about 50 % of the time–she ran for her first PAX and then her second.  When they grandfathered in speed points this past July, she earned her first PACH title–as well as the ranking of #2 lifetime Cardigan in the Preferred class (that’s the one that allows her to run safer, shorter jumps for her stubby-legged, long-bodied self).

At that time, she was only 150 points shy of her second PACH–the one she would have easily earned had the PACH dogs been granted the placement multiplier points earned by the MACH dogs in the very same time frame.  (bitch, mutter)

Well, at three months later and almost 12 years old, she’s now 98 points shy of her second PACH…and that’s how it’ll always be.

For Belle, being perfect has always been the most important thing.  Unfortunately for her, she has her own standards, and they’re far, far higher than mine.  She worries when she perceives that she’s imperfect.

Over the last year, she’s lost most of her early speed.  The problem is…

She knows it.

For her Jumpers courses, I can usually convince her that she is indeed perfect; I rate my speed to hers so she doesn’t feel left behind.  But over this past three-day trialing weekend, she looked at me out on the course and told me she was too worried about not being perfect to have fun any longer.

So I jollied her into giggling through one last Jumpers run, picked her up at the end of the course–the better to offer her cookies–and walked off the course to bury my face in her ruff and cry.  Yes, like a baby.

It’s the right thing for her, so we’re doing it.  But oh, I will miss running my Belle Princess.

PACH Cheysuli's Silver Belle, CD RE MXP5 MJP6 XFP PAX2 EAC EJC CGC

It turns out that if you’re massively overworked and you don’t back off before an agility trial, you just may not be at your best.

At the point this becomes evident, the best you can do is make sure the dogs have as much fun as possible.

Belle ran standard agility this past weekend (the one with all the climb-over/tipping obstacles, as opposed to the one with mostly jumping obstacles).  She hasn’t done this for a year, since she got her PAX2 title; she’s just been running jumpers in semi-retirement, as she approaches twelve years old.

 But to my great surprise, when the AKC handed out PACH titles in July, Belle was pretty darned close to earning her PACH2, which is a tremendous accomplishment for a little dog who was partially paralyzed at age five and has spent the years since then being benched for flares as often as she was able to run–especially when she, along with all the other PACH-eligible dogs, didn’t get credit for her placement multipliers as the MACH-class dogs running during that time period did.

(Gee, no, this doesn’t crisp my cookies much, why do you ask?)

Not to mention, she was also #2 lifetime ranked Cardigan Welsh Corgi in her competition class.

 So I said, “Belle, if you’re going to run, let’s run Standard classes and go for the PACH2.  If you don’t think that’s a keen idea, then maybe it’s truly time to retire.”

Belle on Friday’s Standard Course:  “Wheeee!  This is FUN!  Giggle!”

In fact, it was so much fun that she forgot a decade of teeter training and missed her tipping point, and had a rather ugly stumble complete with face plant.  But I cheered, and she kept right on running.  “Wow, didn’t seem to phase her!” said those who saw.  Well, I know Belle–and Belle feels it’s really important to be PERFECT.

Belle on Saturday’s Standard Course:   “Wheee here I co–oh wait, is that the teeter*?  Oh!  I was NOT PERFECT on the teeter yesterday!  What if it happens again!  I don’t know what to do!  Mommy!  I’m melllllting!”

Me to Judge:  “Thank you very much, we’re done!”

Me to Belle:  *kisshead kisshead huggy*  “You did that one jump PERFECT!  Let’s go make you feel special.”

(two hours later, jumpers course)
Belle:  Wheee!  I’m still special!!

*Actually, it was the dog walk.  But they go up at the same angle, and her self-avowed imperfection of the previous day made it too scary to risk.

Whew.

And Sunday?  I didn’t enter her for both courses back when I was making my master plan.  I wanted to give her an easy day.

Well, it turns out that if you’re massively overworked and you don’t back off before an agility trial, by day three of running three dogs, you get a nuclear-intensity migraine.  Under those circumstances, the difficulty of memorizing a course, running it accurately, and–most importantly–making your dog feel special along the way…well, something’s gonna go.  It also turns out that Belle–

Belle:  HEE HEE HEE GIGGLE!

Belle may not have the speed she had as a young person, but she still knows how to grin.  And I have it on video–along with that last second at the end where Belle, as she is wont when she’s especially exuberant and her human doesn’t strongly support the final jumps, takes off early and lands on top of the final jump.

Oops.

What the video doesn’t show is that she circled around after that jump and leaped right into my arms, just as she did in days of old, completely full of Being Special.

WINNING!

Belle running, me lurching.  That funny bit starting at 18 seconds is what it looks like when a short little dog goes through weave poles that are obscured by the jump between the poles and camera.

The blooper is a bit hidden by the tunnel, but watch her take-off at 45 seconds…and the distance to the jump standards….  I wish we had the leap-to-arms, but the camera did a swooping whoopsie at that point, which I have mercifully cut…

Shame on you if you came here expecting to find anything other than Frenetic Random Acts of Play in this blog.  Ahem.

It’s not meant to be a FRAP video at all.  It’s meant to be a video of one of Dart’s weekend practice runs.  I try to watch these as whenever I can get my hands on them, because I learn from them–how to support Dart better, and how to handle better in general.

Also, I learned how dorky it looks to run in riding sneakers, but I pretty much already knew that.  The footing at this particular practice venue is a weird sand that gets in everything, though, so…riding sneakers it is.

But back to the FRAP.  There’s a certain look to FRAPping that any dog owner knows…a certain tail posture, a little bit of a hump in the back…it often looks as though the dog is scooting away.

Lately, Dart’s been picking up a little speed during practice, and what I saw in Saturday’s video explains why.  It’s a stealth FRAP.  Not quite random, because…hey, he’s going where I tell him to go!  (Including the moment when he goes where the course doesn’t…ahem.)

But check out that tail.  Check out the moments he’s slingshotting out of the tunnel, or scooting around on a turn.  You’ll see it.  There’s a FRAP lurking there.  The baby boy is figuring out just how fun this agility thing can be…

That business where he takes a sharp turn from the tunnel to the weaves? That was a stupendous weave entrance for a baby dog. However, it set us up very badly for the jump-jump-tunnel sequence afterward, because I should have done a front cross before the weaves; the two errors he made after that were caused entirely because I didn’t. Which I knew might happen, but I wasn’t sure Dart was up to it. Retrospective wisdom: should have tried. But that’s why he’s getting praise for doing it wrong (and then louder praise for doing it right).

Anyway, I love watching that video.  To me it speaks of a lot of fun to come…

And now, I leave you with a Dose of  Dogloo Dogs:

Looked out the back door. Found this.

Edit: Thursday, July 21, we head to the second consultation, after which it’s likely he’ll go directly to the scan and rhinoscopy…
~~~~

Early in July, after lo these many months of working on fundraising for ConneryBeagle, it’s become obvious that Connery is losing ground.

The most recent escalation started shortly after he earned his agility MACH2 in June–he was in pain, he wasn’t able to focus, he stopped playing, and although he happily joined me on any and all training excursions, his performance was off.

Connery’s Auntie Vet and I put our heads together for a mutual “gut feeling” response to the escalating complications, and thank goodness the new course of meds helped. He bounced back to enjoying his activities, being more patient with young Evil Dart Beagle, and bawhing his way through the house during play time.

And this past weekend at gorgeous Cloudcroft, NM, although the change to the 10,000′ altitude triggered headsplosions the first night, Connery grabbed his joy for all six of the weekend’s courses and ran fast, tight, and clean. He sang his Song of Self at the start and finish lines and (as he does when he’s feeling particularly happy with himself), scolded me when the course was a bit too twisty for his liking. “BAWH!” he says. “I’m doing this, but you should be aware that it is Not Right!”

But we still don’t know what’s causing it all, and we’re playing an ever-lagging game of catch-up just to keep taking the edge off his symptoms.

The CT funds are a long way from the cost of the procedure, but I’ve decided to schedule the procedure, go on faith, and plan on some really, really creative accounting while I continue selling the anthology.  I have that “time is running out” feeling. And I’m really, really fortunate, because even in the days since I made that decision, Connery received some incredibly supportive gifts.  We’re still working on it, but…with a little more hope.

In any event, I’m calling the vet to schedule even as this post goes up. The time has come to push my luck, so I’m no longer pushing Connery’s.

Because, ya know…he always deserves to run just this happy:

Clovis, May 30: the MACH2 run

The Play-By-Play: A course full of traps, more about precision handler placement than figuring out how to get there in time (ie, not much with the hard running!). Trap jump in front of the teeter, trap chute to the right going into the box, trap left tunnel entrance, trap chute coming out of the tunnel and through the box again, screeching tight post turn over jumps, trap tunnel x2 coming through the box again…you get the idea.  Shoulder, hand, and foot position…and no leeway!  PS we didn’t realize at the time that this was the MACH run–me and math–so the celebration came at the run AFTER this one…  ;>