WordPlay

If you’ve been reading this blog, you know that ConneryBeagle has been sick.

In fact, you probably know that for the last year, our lives have pretty much been all about the Sick.  Figuring out what’s wrong and going through a series of vets to do it, funding that whole process–the CT scan, the various meds, the early rhinoscopy–and then funding the meds. (Hey, did I mention that THE HEART OF DOG would make a great Christmas gift?)

Through it all, Connery just kept trucking–playing agility, training in tracking, just plain being a good boy.  He was on a slow and steady downward slide, but at every step of the way, did what he could.

At the end of the day, we learned that his sinuses are self-destructing in an idiopathic way, which means, “We don’t know why.”  No doubt it’s related to his lifelong auto-immune issues–the same ones that prompted his first and very wonderful vet to warn me I would lose him early, maybe very early.

The solution was a doggy Flovent inhaler.  (If you’ve never paid for Flovent out of pocket, then trust me when I say you never want to.)

Then came the steroid side effects, which weren’t supposed to happen at all.  In this case, Connery instantly shed every muscle he had, but hid the fact by bloating up with water retention.  So as we lowered the dose and the water came off, what it revealed was a weedy little guy with no muscle tone.  We lowered (and lowered) and LOWERED the dose, and finally realized that for him, there is no dosage level that takes care of the problem without affecting his body–but it’s a lot better than it was.  We walk a fine line.

Right at that time, he started showing reluctance to jump  into the car, and we thought he’d simply gotten too weak (I had a vet check him that same day).  In the days that followed, he saw a chiropractic vet (who helped a LOT), he regained some muscle (not all), and I gauged his progress by watching carefully as he ran agility.  His confidence and speed steadily improved, but his right hind muscling didn’t seem quite right.

As of Thanksgiving, Connery had his BAWH! back.  He ran with fierce glee for a three-times-Double Q weekend, and pulled together 82 MACH points.  (For us, that’s a once-a year kind of thing.) In the following week, we got the notice that he made AKC Nationals in Reno, and we started thinking about that late-winter trip.

Then on Saturday I went to the most awesome soundness clinic.  I signed up for it months ago, including an exam for Connery!  During the course of the clinic, the presenting veterinarian gave us the tools with which to identify problems in our dogs; it’s an elegant system.  Not that I’m a sudden expert–I’m just someone with more insight than I had before.

By the time we broke for the individual exams, I was pretty sure I knew what was coming: during Connery’s time of weakness, he’d done himself an injury–from which he’s now mostly recovered, but which is now shifting to a lurking chronic condition, maybe with another six to twelve months before it blows up big-time.

Some days, it sucks to be right.

So thanks to this wondrous vet, I know where the injury is (stifle) and I know how to treat it proactively (ultrasound diagnosis, prolotherapy, and rehab).  It means no agility, no play time, no tennie…  It means biking to keep him moving straight and strong (OMG it just turned into winter!), and thank goodness, he’s allowed to continue tracking.

But it’s this or we’re done.  No agility, no play time, no tennie…ever again.

ConneryBeagle: I AM NOT DONE PLAYING YET!

DogMom: Me either!  Still in there fighting for you, BeagleMine!

collage by Inside Hope’s Chest; altered by moi

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.)

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.

For today, at least.  That’s because the next step in the Help ConneryBeagle Journey is on the schedule for today, when he’s seeing a doggy ophthalmologist.

(There are only so many times I’ll spell “ophthalmologist” in any given post, so we are now talking about the Eye Vet.)

I don’t think this is a hunt for miracle answers…it’s more that it’s so clinically bizarre for Connery’s sinus issues to be associated with eye infections that we want to check it out.

(For years, my signal that he’s incubating a sinus infection has been a subtle eye involvement; for years, as we’ve moved around, I’ve had to argue with every single new vet/substitute vet that this is the case, including one substitute vet who fought me so hard on it that she delayed things until he was a very, very sick little dog indeed.  I love my current vet because she was willing, in short order, to base his treatment on his history, no matter how inexplicable.)

Once this is done, then we move on to an AeroDawg inhaler, and I gather his records together to head for an alternative vet nearby.

Both of these things are options because we funded a rhinoscopy which didn’t happen, which is pure luck, and because we had the funds at all, which is nothing to do with luck and everything to do with those who have bought (and I hope enjoyed) the book, spread the word or otherwise helped with fundraising, provided good cheer, and made donations.  I am ever grateful for your friendship and continuing interest in Connery’s outcome.

Edit: Aside from the early signs of infection in the eye where I knew he had early signs of infection, Auntie Eye Vet sees nothing of concern with ConneryBeagle’s eyes.  Next, a chat with Uncle Internist Vet to finalize our course of action…but not until Thursday.

And now, before things get too sniffy and sentimental, have some Beagle to start your day:

Play-by-play:

Cloudcroft Jumpers runs:  The boy was just off a new round of meds and had fun! This is the first video I’ve seen of him in jumpers and it’s clear how hard he works to make this jump height, into which he just barely measures.  And I was startled to see my little hoppity stride at the end; I guess the hamstring is still a problem and I just don’t pay much attention…

The first run is all in gloom—if you can’t see the massive monsoon cloud overhead, you can imagine it!  In the second, don’t you love the body language when I realize he’s *gasp* broken his start line?  There’s a first time for everything…and how about that 180×2 dosey-doe in the middle of the course?  Those seem really popular this season around here…  On run three, I hasten to say I don’t usually fling the leash with such vigor; one takes care not to hit the leash runner.  But this particular (very nice) runner had already moved in on a dog at the start-line to grab the leash, and due to Connery’s “been attacked” history, I don’t allow that to happen, so…I wanted that leash OUT THERE!  Then there’s a dicey little moment on the rear cross to weaves, not unexpected; Connery takes a rear cross as a signal for a pretty sharp angle, and the course forced a cross where the angle wasn’t optimal for us.  What a good boy, to fix it with me!

If you were bumming around here last week, you saw it already.  If not, it’s still there…the Connery Vet Report, unfolding pretty much “live” and on air.  I’ve left it there for posterity, as it fairly well chronicles this part of our efforts to get him diagnosed and treated for his baffling headsplosions.

But first, take a moment to step aside and gaze at that progress bar on the right.  You know…how many books we have left to sell to fund this stage of the process?

That would be NONE.  Thanks to kind and compassionate friends–some long-time, some gained through Connery’s journey–the CT scan and probable follow-up rhinoscopy are now funded!

So now, we take a moment to CHEER!!!  Loudly!

Connery:  What’s all the excitement?  BAWH!

However, when we last left our intrepid canine hero, he was scheduled for a CT scan and potential rhinoscopy on Saturday the 23rd.

Except for the part where the CT scanner went down.

SO!  I’m right back where I was last Monday when I wrote that blog: even as you read, I’m calling the clinic to set up an appointment for THIS week.

Wish us luck.

And have a good time with Connery’s three standard runs from Cloudcroft, stitched together in my crude, “What do I know from video editing?” way. 

PS you can so totally hear the BAWH!

PPS my shorts aren’t asymmetrical.  That’s the hamstring brace.  heh heh heh.

The Play-by-Play…

These were all lovely, flowing courses–not a lot of running, but plenty of “better get moving” and plenty of wrong choices for the dogs.  Just watch how many times the courses segue from what seems like a simple series of jumps into a sudden spray of choices.   (Check out run #2, where our quiet run breaks into a bellowing call-off after the teeter!)  That first day has a particularly wicked section where the jumps along the back row (you can’t see them) are all offset, making it tricky to line the dogs up to take the correct tunnel entrance (and not the wrong tunnel or the weaves).

In these cases, it’s all about the set-up from those “simple” jumps.  Like in the first run–set up for the correct tunnel entrance happened way back at the dogwalk: the lateral distance from the walk combined with the way Connery stuck the contact on his own while I ran out ahead let me work the back line  to the tunnel.

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…  ;>

Well, Connery has been out of sorts this past week, thanks to a rising eye and sinus infection.  These things are subtle with him–hard to diagnose–but he’s on meds now and shows signs of feeling better.

I’m all the more determined to get him in for a CT scan in early August, before it’s simply too late to deal with the cause (if in fact the cause can be dealt with at all).  There’s been some offhand mention of the potential for cutting his little Beagle head open, but I DON’T THINK SO is where I stand on that.

Sobering.

So what’s the antidote to a week of worrying about Beagle One?

EVIL DART BEAGLE!

Evil Dart Beagle (say that with affection!) is one of those crazy dogs who, in fact, has little awareness or concern about what any given body part is doing at any given time.  He’s the dog who’ll fly off the A-Frame because WHO CARES!  He’s the dog who’ll scramble across the dogwalk with one or two limbs catching air over the side at any given time, because WHO CARES!

When a dog has no body awareness, it’s really hard to teach him things like “do a nice straight SAFE splat at the bottom of the contact obstacle.”  Or a straight recall in obedience, or a nice heel-sit.  He’s got no idea he’s crooked in the first place, or that his sloppy butt-sit has pointed his hind legs in so many different directions at once.

This is also the dog who has no idea he’s digging his claws into the tops of your bare feet, or that he’s just atomically vibrated himself up into your face right as you bend over, or that you really didn’t need that nose broken.

So for his sake and mine, Evil Dart Beagle is learning that he has legs, and he’s learning where his legs attach, and what they do when he might otherwise not be paying attention.  And this is how I’m doing that…

PS: This is in gallery set-up, so clickie on the piccie for something larger…