WordPlay

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…

Oh, Dart Beagle.  How you teach me patience.

Or, as my agility friends say, “The most willpower, ever.”

Dart’s learning to keep his brain in his body on a trial agility course, because failing to do so results in warp speed excursions across the grounds, little of which includes taking obstacles.

At home, this means we’re working tons of off-course focus and obedience, proofing, and lots of premacking & choice games (ie behavioral work).  We’re working agility skills, too, but secondarily.

At trials, it means…massive willpower. Because while Dart can navigate advanced drills at home, for the last couple of months, he’s been benched for trials.  Only last weekend did he venture onto a course again–entered only for the just first day of the trial, and running only…one…jump.

Even with those lovely big sprawling novice courses out there in front of us…beckoning…luring…calling…

Well, this weekend just past, he did his third perfect start line in a row–in a crowded, noisy venue at that.  He gave me perfect attention at the start line, a lovely little first obstacle, and a precision recall: come, sit, present collar, “Thank you, Judge!” and praise party.

Then loometh the jumpers course. Three perfect “outings” in a row, and up pops temptation, sitting on my should just like the devil.  “TRY THE WHOLE FREAKIN’ COURSE, DURGIN!  HE CAN DO IT!  HE RUNS EXCELLENT STUFF AT HOME!  YOU KNOW YOU WANT TO!”

(I’m telling you,  that Temptation totally uses all-caps.)

Well, it was time to up the ante, but not quite that far. We did four carefully planned jumps: A start line, a longish and very difficult lead-out, and two additional jumps, very pretty!  Between #3 & #4, he got a bit stressy.  But he took #4 without delay, and then presented himself to me in his recall sit as requested.

All in all, perfection. He stretched his boundaries without breaking them, and he was completely successful.  Not too much, not too little.  Willpower wins!

Just don’t ask me what I’m going to do in July, when I’m standing there at the start line looking out over the next lovely big sprawling novice course…

Baby dog jumping--all sprawled out and grinning. PS Dart's ears don't weigh very much.

Pssst!  You know you wanna–!

Some days, there is no bawh loud enough.

I went to the three-day Amarillo trial with Connery’s second MACH (Masters Agility Championship) looming, but too many points outstanding to have any hope of earning them out.

MACH: Twenty double-qualifying runs (QQs, or standard and jumpers on the same day) and 750 speed points (1 speed point per second under standard course time).

MACH2: SQUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Some dogs have a bazillion speed points and struggle for double Qs; some go the other way.  Connery has decent QQs, but as a square-built little Beagle who’s usually both the shortest and heaviest dog in his height class, he scraps for every single speed point.

SO…

I went into the three-day Amarillo trial with a dog boy who’s been head-hurting since last fall (there’s a reason I’m selling an anthology to fund his CT scan) and then, the week before the trial, started a new med which, as compounded by the specialist pharmacy, held substances that made him sick from both ends for several days.

SO, YANNO…

I just wanted to see him run happy at this trial. No expectations, no assumptions that that ConneryBeagle will be okay to run in the June trials (which is how we’ve been operating for months now: no assumptions).

BUT, YANNO…

Have I mentioned that Connery Beagle loves his agility?

After Saturday’s Double Q and times, I figured we were decently set up for a MACH2 in June if he can run.

After Sunday’s Double Q and times, I figured we were in a great position for June…except I’d just watched Connery display an odd choke-cough through the first half of each course, so the “no assumptions” volume was turned up pretty high.  (Pulling him in mid-course would have felt like a punishment to him–I let him make that decision if we seem to have a problem.)

After Sunday’s rockin’ first course, I just figured the odds were against us.  But I spent a looong time memorizing and walking the jumpers course.  Obsession beats panic, any day of the week.

AND, YANNO…

ConneryBeagle really loves his agility.

CH MACH2 Cedar Ridge DoubleOSeven CD RE XF EAC EJC CGC

CH MACH2 Cedar Ridge DoubleOSeven CD RE XF EAC EJC CGC

Did I say?  There’s a reason I put together a whole anthology for this boy’s CT scan…and why it’s called The Heart of Dog!

I’m off at an agility trial, right this moment! How cool is that?

Dart is currently too evil to run; Belle is running in jumpers only, as befits her semi-retired self, and Connery…

Connery is sooo close to his MACH2. His illness has slowed but not stopped this progress, and as long as it gives him joy…we’re gonna play!

(Here he is as the 20th Beagle to earn a MACH1.  I don’t know how many have MACH2…there are some really nice Beagles running right now!)

ConneryBeagle says, "BAWHSOME!"

WIND.  Agility.  WIND.  Cold.  WIND.

WIND WIND WIIIIIIIND.

Every once in a while, a trial comes along that turns into a defining mark. “Remember that trial when…?”

Remember that trial when Friday’s 45mph gusts turned into Saturday’s day-long 60mph wind and mutated to Sunday’s blustery cold snap?

Early in the weekend with Wind Ears. Before it got bad.

First to go, the jump wings. The ring crews worked heroically to secure them.  Some couldn’t be saved, depending on their angle in the wind.  This led to a certain number of one-winged jumps and an ever-mutating course.

Next to go, the obstacle numbering cones. Well, we’re supposed to have memorized the course anyway, and who can read those things on the run?  But they did end up in some…inconvenient places.

Dog on the Run: What the heck is THAT?  Super-power: LEVITATE!

Early Saturday, before the wind hit peak, between gusts at the start line. The background tells the tale--contorted tunnel, traveling cone and chair in the ring...

Then came the set-up chairs. The set-up canopies were safe, because we’d all had warning…they were all tucked away, and the field was dotted with naked shade shelter frames.

That’s when it got fun. Tumbling crates, blowing jackets, flying trash, stinging desert grit, wayward hats, misshapen tunnels… Keeping the courses intact turned into a community project, with the ring crews in constant motion.

And jump poles! Even with rubber bands (which hold the poles gently in place but don’t prevent a knocked bar), they were scattered across the course.  Connery ran one course with four missing jumps.

ConneryBeagle: This is not RIGHT.  I will pretend the bar is STILL HERE.

But he still bayed into the wind and Double-Q’d.

Connery at the start line, spurning the wind

Unfortunately, he’s had a tough weekend as far as his pain is concerned, although we had him bundled away in a protected crate.  Little Dart was dazed and frazzled, and I was really glad he wasn’t scheduled to run; I’d have pulled him.  Belle…well, Belle did what she does best.

Belle: Oh!  Woe!  This must somehow be MY FAULT.

Sunday was a relief after that, bitter biting cold wind and all.  Thirty miles per hour, suddenly not so bad…

As for the hamstring, bless its little heart… I didn’t re-injure it.  I did my share of lurching, skipping, and jumping, and if I can get my hands on the video taken of Belle’s run from the worst of the wind, you might just get a gander of that.

Or not. I have to hold on to the shreds of dignity that I might possibly have remaining, after all…

(Hey!  I hear that!  STOP THAT LAUGHING!)

Meanwhile, it’s time to go check the mirror for my wild windburn, and do some laughing of my own.  Why waste the opportunity?

O Hammiestring
That went ping!
I can’t exactly put you in a sling
And don’t you know that it is spring?
The sun is out, the air is clear, and I am ready to take WI-
*lurch, crumple, stagger*
…wing..?

Thus the imminent scene at the second localish trial of the spring, the first of which, 2 1/2 weeks ago, saw to the self-destruction of my hamstring.

Am I not stylin', in my hammie wrap?

I’ve been practicing…trying to develop an alternative ambulation. So far I have skip, lurch, and an odd sort of race-walking.  That last is not really something to do in public.

I plead insanity.

But around here, we don’t have many trialing opportunities, and this is one of our favorites.  And the truth is…I can’t stand the thought of missing a trail when the future feels so uncertain right now.

At going on 12 years, Miss Belle is running jumpers only, halfway to retirement.  I keep a close eye on her for signs that it might be time to consider complete retirement.  She’s reached PAX2 level, and has already qualified for the new (in July) PACH title–completely analogous to the MACH, but with a lower jump height.

Well, not completely analogous. There’s the bittersweet fact that her placement multipliers–available to every MACH-running dog during the same time-frame–won’t be counted.  If so, she’d have her PACH2, but my sense of things is that she’ll now run out of time to finish off that PACH2 without them.

Little Inner Squeaky-Whiney Voice: It’s not fair!

Well, she won’t know. And PACH is not too shabby for a little girl who was partially paralyzed at age five and lost so much time to ongoing flares over the years, even as the training kept her as strong as possible.  But I know.  And I know she deserves the same acknowledgement as those dogs who ran for their MACHs during that time, and I know it upsets me that she won’t get it.

And so I can’t bring myself to miss this trial. You know.   Not only just in case it really does come to matter, but also just in case it’s one of the few we have remaining.

As for ConneryBeagle–well!  We’re running on the unknown, for sure–no idea what’s in his future, or if I’ll be able to fund the procedures that will lead to answers and maybe solutions.  He’s 100 points away from MACH2, and he loves the run with a fierce joy.  So am I going to not try?  Yeah, I don’t think so.

So I am full of Bio-Freeze, flexeril, massage, elliptical, PT exercises, and stretches. And I shall lurch, hop, skip, and funky-walk my way around the course.  We might not qualify because of it, but yes–we will try!

PS Dart?  Dart has lots of time. This weekend, he’ll run one day to get his paws wet, and then he’ll bask, watching the action.

O Hammiestring
That went ping…

I had planned to run a three-day AKC trial this weekend. I had planned to play with Belle in Jumpers for PACH points, and for Double-Qs and MACH points with Connery, and practice whatever short course pieces that Dart could manage.

I had not planned to take a wrong step before the third obstacle of the first course of the first trial day  and blow up my hamstring.

This is me, except I'm not grey and see-through.

Hamstring: I hate you.

Uh huh.

So, here’s  my good luck!

~For the first time ever, there was a massage/chiro professional on the premises.  He was drumming up business and affordable.  Belle had some work done, too.

~A friend from my former agility club had traveled over for this trial. We learned from the same instructor and have the same foundation running style. Belle was in those classes, too, and Connery trained with her dogs for the first years of his life, and she was willing.  If I had to pluck any single person out of thin air to sub for me…yes, it would have been this person.

~Dart is not ready to Q, anyway. Working on a few starts and then exiting on success was probably the better part of valor, hamstring notwithstanding.

~On that first, fateful run, Connery burst forth with such vivid joy that in spite of the fact I ran (er…lurched…hopped…) stunned and pain-blind, he not only made a tremendous save at the point of the injury, he went on to run a beautiful course.  And Q’d, and took a rare (for us) first place.

(You see what I mean about The Heart of Dog.)

And there were many other bits of goodness, like the old Ace bandages we had waiting at home, the fully stocked Tiger Balm, the excellent advice and support from trial friends, and the very understanding judges.

Belle, it turns out, was too anxious about running with a substitute handler to Q, even one she used to hang out with.   We told her she’d done very well, regardless, and she was much relieved and believed us.

Connery, it turns out, remembers his friend and did, after some initial concern because it wasn’t ME, think it was a tremendous party to run with her.  He continued with his wonderful glee of Friday, and built on our Double Q to earn two more on Saturday and Sunday, turning in some wonderful times.

Oh, yes–he had some very hard mornings before it was time to run, with choking and wheezing fits; I wasn’t sure, for the first time, if he’d manage the days.  But I’ve learned that he breathes differently when running a trial course, and so far, he’s not having trouble on the course.  So we’re threading the needle for as long as we can–because, hello…the only thing sure to wreck his ability to cope with what’s happening is to take away the things he loves.

Two weeks until he sees the specialist. Maybe by then I’ll be lurching along more smoothly…but I am very carefully not tempting fate by planning on it!

It’s Thursday the 3rd as I write this; I’m heading east toward Clovis, NM.  The temperature has just (finally) broken 0*F, and there’s sunshine streaming into the van.  There’s a three-dog cuddle-pile in the crate.  The highway is covered with snow that, in these temps, just laughs the sunshine.  I can’t type with gloves, but I’ve got my wristies on!

This is Dart’s debut trial, for which I am alternately anxious to do well or prepared for ultimate humbling silliness.  Last Sunday, I thought, “Best go into this one well-rested and calm.”

Monday: Ha ha ha!  I spit at your calm!  And also, here is some crushingly bad personal news of tremendous consequence to handle!

Tuesday: Oh yeah?  I call your chaos and raise you some GUESS WHAT!  Here is all the work not done on Monday, all of Tuesday’s work, consequences from the crushingly bad news, a foot and a half of snow, and CHECK OUT THESE TEMPS!

Temperatures: plunge

Dogs: Go outside in THIS?  We want in!  But oh, we didn’t do our business, it was too cold, we want out!  In!  Out!  Dart: Never mind.  I took care of everything in here.

DuncanHorse: I am twenty this year.  I am not doing well in this cold.  Don’t I have a better blanket?  No?  Bran mash, please.  Watch me and fret.  Did you hear about that horse that colicked in last night’s cold?  Did you remember that colic almost killed me last year?  Did you put me on colic watch?  You did?  Thank you very much.  Don’t kiss my nose or your lips will freeze to it.

Wednesday: I have some excellent additional chaos for you in the office!  Massive hardware issues!  Software is funky!  And I’m even colder.  But see?  You can keep warm outside in 6F, as long as you’re working hard to mange the barn, and saving the new agility equipment from the snow, and preparing the van for travel.  Isn’t that neat?

Wednesday: And oh, PS.  I was supposed to be warmer tonight but I CHANGED MY MIND.  I’m aiming for -20.  Want to come along?

Dogs: Just forget it.  Seriously.

DuncanHorse: No, really.  I don’t feel right.  This blanket and liner used to be enough for me but…no thank you, I don’t think I’ll finish my warm bran and soaked hay pellets.

House: By the way, my pipes are already freezing even though you’re still using the water.

Gut Feeling: horsecolichorsecolichorsecolichorsecolichorsecolichorsecolichorsecolic

Me: Runs out to friend’s house for heavier blanket. Oh look!  I’m STUCK IN THEIR DRIVEWAY.  In the dark.  At -12F! NOT PACKING. *specific off-color running commentary deleted*

Me: Finally extricated.

DuncanHorse in borrowed blanket: I feel better already.  Thank you!  I nuzzle you all over.

Dogs: What about us?

House: creaaaak

Me: It’s 10pm and I haven’t started packing my gear, never mind the van!

Bed: You want me.  You know you want me.

Van: What makes you think I’ll start in the morning, anyway?

House: Seriously.  Stop packing and do something with these pipes.

Note: So far, this doesn’t feel very much like restful calm to me.

Thursday: Did you even know it could get this cold?  I’m so proud!

Spot the Car, blocking the Garage: Maybe the van started, but I have no such intention.

Van: Have you checked my tires?

DuncanHorse: I am much better, but more warm mash before you go, please!

Office: I know you weren’t going to come in here today, but I saved up one last giant splooge of Chaos for you.

Dart: By the way, this is all too exciting, and I’ve forgotten every little bit of agility you might have thought I knew.

So here we are on the road, ONLY 45 minutes late?  Heading to have a weekend of agility in a favorite venue with favorite people?

Yeah. I’ll take it!

Dogs: *happy snooze*

PS:

Rest Areas Along Stretch of Big Wide No Other Options: By the way, we aren’t open today.  Too cold, y’know.

Six months.

That’s how long Dart has been in training. Not just for agility and a smattering of obedience, rally, and tracking on the side, but for his new life with his new pack in his new home.

Since he came to us at ten months old, he already had a pretty good idea of what life was all about.  Or so he thought.  Turns out he was wrong.

Of course, he’s perfectly happy doing things his way, wrong or not.

So he’s had a lot to learn.  A LOT. And it’s not just something I can pour on all at once; it’s got to be layered.  Or else…

Dart’s Head: BOOM!

Well, that happens often enough anyway, because he’s just that sort of guy.  The world is a really exciting place.  And it has COOKIES.

Dart’s Head: COOKIE BOOM!

Add to this that Dart learns in quite an interesting fashion–sometimes brilliant, sometimes really , really not.

Dart: Whut?

And he takes more layering in his learning than any dog I’ve encountered.  It’s not linear for him–step one and two and three.  It’s a little bit of step one, a glimpse at step four, practicing hard for two days at step two, dropping it entirely for three days, and then skipping to a decent step three for intermittent sessions until suddenly…

Dart: I knew that all along.  I’ve always known it.  I was born knowing it.

So that means that while Belle went to her first agility trial as a solid novice dog, and Connery went to his first trial as a solid novice dog, there’s simply no point in waiting for Dart to be a solid novice dog before hitting that first trial.  He’s got to see the whole process in context.  He’s got to understand the big picture before he can finish putting the smaller pieces together.

And that’s why in four weeks, I’m heading into an agility ring with a dog who doesn’t have a clue–

Dart: Whut?

And a dog who can’t be proofed for the agility ring anywhere other than the agility ring–

Dart: Whut?

And an adolescent goofhead of a young man dog whose response to being in a ring at this point is either going to be brilliant, or–

Dart’s Head: BOOM!

The Wide Open Space of the latest agility practice venue…the shadow of the Sandias cast over junipers and the high plains desert version of the national forest.

I’ve done  what I can to prepare him. He goes with me everywhere; he does obedience in parking lots and does bits of agility wherever I can make it happen. He’s been to trials, where he’s learned about focus and that trials are SPECIAL and that while he’s at trials, he’s–

Dart: I AM TOTALLY SPECIAL.

Dart: But PS, why do we get up so early?

Anyway.  Come a month from now–during which Mother Nature may or may not allow us to practice–I’ll set reasonable goals and ask of him only what I think he can give.  We’re not trialing to qualify; we’re trialing to learn.  Expensively, but then…clinics and such cost money, too.

Dart’s Potential Scribe Sheet: R F F R R W T WTF….

Dart: WAG!

This past weekend, Dart debuted his weave pole performance in the National Forest, where he always comes to work on this or that after Connery’s had his turn with tracking practice.  One jump; six weave poles.  (At home he’s practicing with all twelve in a channel weave set, but that’s what I mean about layering…).  On the long line at first (which is why he’s wearing about twenty collars–the leads all come with their own collars and have their own purpose, and today I just kept piling them on!), and then a few moments to practice off-lead, in the wide open space, without truly even realizing it.

From jump to weave entry...

Totally exciting photo: It shows his deceleration to enter the weaves, which means he grasps that concept; it shows his *ability* to decelerate, as he absorbs the speed in his shoulder while tucking under behind, even as he stays light on the forward shoulder. This is something Connery works much harder to accomplish due to his square conformation and stout build.

Weave!

Still weaving!

Done, with style!

Yesterday, I might add, was Dart being Brilliant.

Back in the day–okay, until two years ago–I lived in northern Arizona. Then, there were two Beagle handlers in the whole state (okay, face it, in AZ, NM, and Nevada)–me in Flagstaff, and my friend three hours away in Phoenix.

Beagles aren’t known for being an agility breed.

(Why that’s so is another story, but for now, we’ll let it stand there.)

"Creating Champions -- One Rescue Beagle at a Time!" (Pogo Girl PAX MXP5 MJP6)

We connected early in Connery’s career, which was decently early in Pogo Beagle’s career and I believe at the very front end of Sonic Beagle’s career (Belle Cardi was just recovering from her first back flare, and trialing only sporadically).  From there we started setting up together, planning out trial schedules to see where we could coincide, and in general having a grand time together.

More than that, we created our own mini-support group for the challenges of running a Beagle in a herding dog world.  There are certain common denominator experiences attached to the situation, and it’s as much about how people react to the dog as about how the dog does in the ring, especially when you’re visiting a new area, moving up into a new class, starting out in a new jump height–in other words, they don’t know you and they don’t know the dog (and they don’t necessarily realize how well their comments carry, or that you have a friend on the sidelines who will hear them if you don’t).

So it was very, very nice to have another Beagle handler on…well, on hand.  And it was super very nice to become friends!

And then it was very sad to move away, far enough away so our trialing venues simply don’t collide any longer.  (There are great big gobs of empty space between here and there…)

And THEN it was VERY HAPPY this weekend when after those two years, we ended up at the same trial again!  We did the girly squee thing and a little dance and then some mad catch-up, the way one does when scant emails and Facebook just aren’t enough.

Run, Connery, RUN!

Also, we had a great running weekend! The dogs ran strong and happy, and that’s enough to bring smiles for weeks.  Sonic Beagle earned his first Q in Excellent B classes, and Pogo Beagle pulled in two QQs–so did Connery Beagle, while aging Belle ran with a verve and speed that utterly delights me.  Bunsen Beagle and D’Artagnan Beagle sniffed out each others’ credentials in an appropriate way and practiced patience, trial ground behavior, and the “quick potty” maneuver (a critical trial skill).

All in all, we got to do a couple of victory dances, share some commiserations, and just plain relax in our little corner of Beagleness.  So it’s Sunday, and we’re tired…but happy.  Just as it should be.

PS Connery got a handsome new tie-died leash.  Wanna see?