WordPlay

by Doranna

Last week I wrote a lamentful blog about my April 20 deadline for finishing first draft of LYNX REVEALED.  You know…some chatter about deadlines, some chatter about unexpected CEs, some whining from the muse…

It was a stiff deadline and I needed to prove to myself that I could make it after several years of life transitions that turned my writing routines all murky, if ever ongoing.  But hitting homestretch in the story with the addition of several hours of work per day on the CEs, and…

Well.  I was sad.

Also, there’s always someone here at the office standing station with his insistent little Beagle feet against my leg, clamoring for attention.  He’s always done this, but he also misses Belle.

“Training time! Train the Beagle!”

“Train the Beagle NOW.”

Well, here I am to tell you that HA HA HA!  Friday morning, I wrapped up that first draft ANYWAY!  And yes!  I’m using lots of ALL CAPS!

Because I DID IT!

Take THAT, Chaos!

Done! Done done donedone!

Not only done, but darn close to target!  (80-85K words for the Nocturne line.  And I know I’ll be adding about 500 in a missing scenelett, and will tighten down a bit in second draft, when I won’t generally do much but refine the words on paper and slide through the story with defining tweaks to the various threads of it.)

The close-up. Strike a pose!

Of course, here I am two days later and the Muse is missing her first draft time rather badly, in spite of a full weekend of doggy and family events.  But she’ll have to suck it up; there’s a week or more before I go back to the story with second draft.  On Monday, I start right in on the proofs for CLAIMED BY THE DEMON, while simultaneously working CEs on the new edition of SCENT OF DANGER.  Plus, the cover–!

And also this coming week, Big Things in the Offing for the Dogs.  But that’s another blog.  This one is all about BEING DONE.

Do the dance, Numfar!

by Doranna

You may have noticed that things look different around here.  Not vastly different, but if you head to make a comment, you’ll see what I mean.

New!  Cool!  Exciting features!  You can respond to someone specific in a thread! Share the page super-easily!  Get replies in email super-easily!  (Yes, I have a surplus of exclamation points on my hands today.)

You might also notice that all the previous comments are missing.  No fears!  They’re all still here, behind the scenes; they’re just not currently showing.  Or they weren’t when I wrote this.  I did put a process into motion that’s supposed to make them show up.

We Shall See.

Meanwhile, here’s a little something for your Saturday while I’m off running agility with Dart, and Connery is wishing he was running, too.  A couple of the reasons the boys are rarely inside while I’m writing…

by Doranna

For starters, an update on Miss Belle–she’s doing well on her bucket list, and has regained some weight and energy on the new feeding protocol.  She’s having some good days, and we’re grateful.  It doesn’t seem as though it’ll be too much longer.

The Dartspression at the end of a training sequence, where there will be COOKIES forthcoming. Or a TOY. You just never know, do you?

Days of Dart should pretty much be called Month of Dart.  The World of Dart.  The intensive all-consuming “HOW many events in a row?” weekends of Dart.  And the preparation for same.

With Connery on rehab, Dart has a spotlight on the training and trialing stage.  Not to mention he’s in a pretty intensive proofing/generalizing stage beyond what my previous dogs have asked for.

So he’s going to handling class, tootling around in the car to work in a variety of parking lots, biking with Connery for Connery’s rehab, had a big playdate, and this month has one weekend after another of events–agility trials, a seminar, obedience trial…

This means I have one weekend after another of same.

So with any luck, the blog will be full of doggie pictures and doggie fun, and maybe even a couple of doggie surprises.

(Even though, I should probably add, I have a book coming out in just over a month.  This is it.  Here.  TAMING THE DEMON.  That one.  There.  And if you have a review blog or active, widespread review habits and are interested, I’ll be glad to send out a copy while they last.)

Our most recent outing was to partake of a Gerry Brown seminar–Dart’s very first such thing–which was awesome and gave us some tools I think will be critical to helping Dart’s confidence on course.  Piccies currently in development!  Meanwhile, here’s a bit of Dart from the latest agility trial–a twisty little course on which he never did give me full speed, but he did manage to stay on that tricky course after an *ahem* rocky start line.  Go, Dart!

Thank you all for your comments in response to the Imperfect Service Dog post–and for your donations to Paws with a Cause, those of you who made them!

In that post, I asked three questions…I thought maybe it was MY turn to answer them.

1. You’re attending an event.  You see a service dog of awesome cuteness.  YOU CAN’T STAND THE CUTENESS!  You miss your dog who is not at the event.  Because this is a service dog, you feel safe with it.  Also, you used to/do have a dog of that breed.  Your first impulse is to go “AWWW–!” and you feel an inexorable tug to go pet the dog.  What do you do?  (Or if you’re William Shatner, what DO you DO?)
2. You see someone with a service dog who appears to be functionally intact.  You wonder what on earth they need this dog for.  Are they just gaming the system to feel special?  Maybe they’re taking advantage!  You are wildly curious!  Your mouth opens!  What do you say?
3. You’re making casual conversation with someone who happens to have a service dog.  The dog is behaving appropriately, but you’re surprised to see this breed with a service vest on.  You know something about [family dogs/breeds/once taught your dog to sit], and you know this breed has a reputation for its cheerful resistance to training.  You open your mouth and out come the words–

 

So here goes!

1. Generally speaking, I leave the dog alone.  However, if I was to feel utterly compelled to pet, I might ask, “May I say hello to your dog, or is s/he working?”  And then–the most critical part–I would wait for an answer.

As a person with a service dog, this approach would work for me as long as it didn’t interrupt whatever personal business I was handling at the time.  Some folks may be fussier, especially if they’ve dealt with one too many intrusions on their day.  I admit, I have been astonished–speechless, at times–at how many people don’t ask–or if they do ask, they don’t wait for an answer.  Or if they do get an affirmative, they then swoop hastily upon the dog in a fashion guaranteed to alarm all but the stodgiest canine.

For all of these reasons, even if Dart is not working at the time, I no longer allow petting unless I have specifically given him an off-switch of picking him up.  From there, visitors can’t swoop down on him, and I have complete control over how he’s being handled–I can always turn away or gently put my hand between him and a face that’s too close.  Not because I fear for the face, but because hello!  RUDE!  He doesn’t deserve to deal with it.

2.  Although it’s perfectly possible to query appropriately about a service dog’s duties, it may not be as simple as you think.  Not everyone wants to talk about their personal health–and even if they’re fine with that, not every moment is a good one for them to do it.  Even something like “she’s a seizure alert dog” offers a world of personal information.

Also, I’ve found that answering the question often leads to more questions.  My answer is, “He provides me with neurological grounding exercises.”  To which most people say, “What does that mean?”  And suddenly it’s a whole conversation about my health.  Do Not Always Want.

However you decide to handle it, being sensitive to the handler’s response is paramount.  Be curious, not nosy.  And whatever you do, however badly you want to know, there is never any excuse for asking twice if the handler demurs the first time.  Especially if the first response is a very clear, “This isn’t a good time for me to talk about that.”

3.  As long as you’re admiring the dog, you’re good.  It does not count as admiring the dog if you diss his breed in the process.  “I’ve never seen a [insert breed] service dog,” isn’t a bad way to do it.  “Wow, a [insert breed]–awesome!” will probably also get a smile.  “I can’t believe you have a Beagle service dog–that’s such a dumb breed!” might get you a pasted-on smile, but don’t mistake it for the real thing.

(Note that I’ve only had Dart in his active service dog role for a short time, and yet I’ve experienced all the “don’ts” I just mentioned.  I can understand why those with extensive experience might get a little short in their responses, although I hope I never do.  But just maybe, given the great discussion here, we’re a start of the awareness brigade!  Let’s make it contagious…)

Meanwhile, over on the contest side of things…I did my infamous “blind stab at the screen” and Melissa won the WordPlay contest!  Those of you who donated to Paws with a Cause should keep an eye on the Event Web Page to see who wins the grand prizes!

by Doranna

With a title like that, you might be tempted to think I’m talking about the international editions of my books, or the cool covers that sometimes result when the book comes out in a different country.  But no.  Because when my life isn’t all about writing, it’s all about training the dogs.

Yup, it’s time for another Dog Agility Blog Event.  (One of the perks of participation is totally selfish–it spurs me to read all the other blogs, and to look at the subject a whole new way.  Check ‘em out!)  This month we’re pondering the internationalization of the sport, a matter which brought some puzzlement in behind-the-scenes discussion.  “I’ll never compete internationally, so…?”

I am pretty darned sure I won’t ever compete internationally, either.  Never mind being good enough…I don’t fly!  Boom.  Grounded.

But I have a very strong belief in the strength of options.  Options when it comes to training techniques, training tools, training theory.  In fact, I feel strongly enough about having options that even when I run across a technique that makes me wrinkle my nose, I check it out.  You never know when some little piece of information will crop up as useful later on–another dog, another situation, another task.

Just TELL me what to do. Really. Then we'll all be happy.

Once upon a time (she says, by way of illustration), I was new to the idea of shaping behaviors.  Not to mention I had a young dog (ConneryBeagle) who didn’t like shaping behaviors.  Connery wants you to define exactly what you’re asking of him.  Do this; don’t do this.  He doesn’t like being asked to suggest things.  Furthermore, if he thinks his way is valid, he will suggest the same thing over and over and over and over and…look at you in disgust and quit.  Whereas if he does suggest an alternative to a previously defined behavior and you say, “Nope, do it this way,” he will then happily do it that way.

Our experimenting with shaping behaviors was very short lived.  Now that Connery is much more seasoned, I can give him broad hints about what I’d like him to do and then clicker reward, but that’s really a different thing, and I fade the clicker as soon as I can.  But at the time, I read up on it, learned about it…watched other people doing it, and tucked it away.

Fast forward a number of years, and along comes adolescent Dart Beagle–who has flunked being a show dog because he forgot to descend both testicles (this doesn’t surprise me; he’s inordinately fond of them), and who couldn’t be placed in a pet home because he vibrates with intensity.

(The number of people to use the word “vibrate” to describe him, completely independent of one another, is no coincidence.)

So lo, Dart came to my house where I love him fiercely and am willing to be humbled by his antics in agility.  And obedience.  And tracking.  And where in spite of all that, he’s also taken on the mantle of service dog.  (That’s another blog.)

On the other hand, Dart does not love the flash on this particular camera...thus the squint. But he does love the bucket, which--with shaping--he not only learned to balance on in a single session, he also realized that in order to balance on it, he'd have to flip it back upright when he knocked it over.

Dart looooves shaping.  Dart loooves figuring stuff out.  He loooooves knowing he’s clever and proving it.  And Dart LOVES the clicker.  Dart loves the clicker SO MUCH that I use it as a reward during times when he seems stressy.

The point being, if I hadn’t explored both shaping and clicker use just because it wasn’t right for my dog at the time, I wouldn’t have had the option to grab those tools when Dart came along.

So no, I’m not going to compete internationally.  And I don’t particularly like what I’ve seen–safety-wise, fairness-to-the-dog-wise–on some sample AKC Masters C courses (although I also saw one that looked like challenging fun).

But I’ve been watching videos on some of the international techniques, and I’ve watched the videos of world competition, and if some of what I see makes me think “what the effing F is the point of THAT?” it doesn’t mean I won’t look into it, see what proponents of such maneuvers are saying, and see where such handling is supposed to be optimally useful.

Because you never know.  One day it might be the perfect tool to help one of my dogs understand whatever lesson we’re trying to learn on that day.

by Doranna

Also known as “Win Prizes, Support Service Dogs, Feel Good About Self, and also Maybe Win Other Prizes.”

One of the things I don’t generally discuss overmuch is my health (although it’s the reason for my current paucity of posts);  The Lyme has been active for 25 years and diagnosed for less than one.  All the writing, the training, and the trialing is done in spite of…and because I’m really, really stubborn.

There are a lot of things I don’t do, or can’t do without a companion, and these things I integrate into my life as gracefully as possible, so most people don’t even put two and two together.

One of the reasons for that is a sensory dysfunction that generally has me fleeing (literally) for the hills.  (Am I a hermit?  Why yes.  Yes I am.)  To help manage this issue, I use certain focusing and brain exercises that take a lot more effort than you can imagine if you haven’t ever desperately relied on them.  I use these constantly and pretty much invisibly.

One of the things I’ve always done to ground my brain is to bring a dog along when I drive.  Having that quiet presence in the car is one thing–but the real value comes when I get where I’m going and we work together in the parking lot.  It re-grounds me without adding overload…and it’s the very fastest way to do that.  But when it’s too hot to leave a dog in the car…. I stop going places, or I pay a much larger price when I do.

So as of last year, I’ve gone official with Mr. D’Artagnan Beagle:  He’s a service dog. Because a service dog can come inside.

The reason this works for us is not only because of who he is, but because of who we are together.  And because I’ve been training dogs for [mumblemumble] years, I can make choices that are good for him, good for me–and most especially–responsible to the rest of the world.  Before I took this step, I consulted with a service dog trainer–and now Dart and I will grow together in this.  He is an imperfect service dog–eager and learning refinement–with an underlying aptitude, and that’s what makes him exactly perfect for me.

Look who has yet to learn the "tail tuck."

I’m immensely lucky. Not every dog is suited for service work, even if you start from puppyhood.  (Neither of my other two kids would be happy or successful in this role.)  So that’s luck #1.  Luck #2 is of course the fact that training is one of the things I do, and have basically always done.  Had I not run into the health stuff, I would have happily pursued it as a profession; as it is, I simply pursue it with dedication.

I don’t take this luck for granted, and I know…well, how lucky I am to be lucky.  That’s why I’m outing Dart’s quiet Other Role in my life –so I can participate in the “Bloggers Help Paws with Cause” event.

See, FINALLY.  We get to the part about winning things!

Basically, there are whole lot of blogs offering a chance to win a whole lot of bookish things–in return for  donations to Paws for Cause (one entry per each dollar donated).

Here on the blog, I’m giving away an ebook set of the entire Changespell Saga.  (Already have it?  Enter anyway.  We’ll work something out.)

To Enter:  Answer these questions in the comments!  Don’t worry…it could be that there’s no exact right or wrong.  I’ll do the pick from a hat thing–but I won’t lie.  Thoughtful responses (as opposed to token words just to get entered) will have an edge.

1. You’re attending an event.  You see a service dog of awesome cuteness.  YOU CAN’T STAND THE CUTENESS!  You miss your dog who is not at the event.  Because this is a service dog, you feel safe with it.  Also, you used to/do have a dog of that breed.  Your first impulse is to go “AWWW–!” and you feel an inexorable tug to go pet the dog.  What do you do?  (Or if you’re William Shatner, what DO you DO?)
2. You see someone with a service dog who appears to be functionally intact.  You wonder what on earth they need this dog for.  Are they just gaming the system to feel special?  Maybe they’re taking advantage!  You are wildly curious!  Your mouth opens!  What do you say?
3. You’re making casual conversation with someone who happens to have a service dog.  The dog is behaving appropriately, but you’re surprised to see this breed with a service vest on.  You know something about [family dogs/breeds/once taught your dog to sit], and you know this breed has a reputation for its cheerful resistance to training.  You open your mouth and out come the words–

No, wait!  This is a trick question!  Out come the words, “I can’t believe you’re using a Beagle as a service dog!  I [had/knew] a Beagle once, and it was so [dumb/stubborn] that it would never [sit/come/shut up/fill in the blank].”  And here is my answer, the one I will probably never say in public so you now have this sneak peek into my brain: “Right!  Because the dog trained YOU!  Now who’s the SMART ONE?!”  (And in my brain, I will use all caps.)

The MAIN EVENT! The prizes include two $65 gift certificates to any online book store, and a huge box of books and swag from Romance Book Junkies (US residents only).

The blog event is being organized by Bitten by Paranormal Romance and Romance Book Junkies–and here’s what they have to say about THAT!:

“We have a total of 59 blogs working together to raise money for this great cause. There are some awesome prizes up for grabs–and here’s a little about the cause:

Paws With A Cause® enhances the independence and quality of life for people with disabilities nationally through custom-trained Assistance Dogs.

PAWS® increases awareness of the rights and roles of Assistance Dog teams through education and advocacy.  Founded in 1979, Paws With A Cause is dedicated to helping its clients who are challenged by many disabilities, such as Cerebral Palsy, Muscular Dystrophy, Seizure Disorders, and Hearing Disorders to name just some.  Each of our dogs are trained to meet the specific needs of our clients. Tasks may include opening and closing doors, picking up objects, pulling a wheelchair, turning lights on and off, and alerting a person to particular sounds like a telephone, doorbell, smoke detector and many others. Our dogs change lives by enhancing the independence of our clients. By just opening a door, a dog opens up the world for a person with a disability and your donations will go to making that happen.

PAWS is a non-profit organization.  Paws With A Cause/4646 South Division/Wayland, MI 49348″

How to donate:

1. Go to http://www.everribbon.com/PawswithaCause

2. Click on “Make a Donation”

3. Enter your amount. Everibbon will add a small fee to your donation for processing. You will receive 1 entry into the giveaway for every $1 you donate.

4. In the box that says “on the behalf of” please put your name. This is the name that will be listed on the Everibbon website, so use a public name. Do not check the box to make an anonymous donation because Danielle won’t be able to track your donation and  process your giveaway entry.

5. Next it will ask you for your credit or debit card information.

6. Then it will ask for your email address to send you a receipt. This is so that you can submit it for tax purposes.

7. Ta Da!  Now contact Danielle to enter the giveaway!

8. Please email Danielle (RomanceBookJunkiesDanielle@Yahoo.com) with the name you used to donate your money, and tell her how much you donated and if you live in the US or are International.

9. Ta Da again! Thank you for donating!

Warning: Play nice!  If Danielle receives more than one email with the same person’s name and donation amount, she’ll ask for your receipt from Everibbon.

Have lots of fun, admire a service dog, and head over to the Event Web Page to check out the other participating blogs and their prizes!

The Dart Outtakes…he’s not so fond of the camera flash!  His tail would wag happily until the moment I lifted the camera, and then…oppression…

by Doranna
This is a Dog Agility Blog Event

Ten years after my introduction to agility, I’ve managed to acquire some equipment–jumps, some contact equipment, some tunnels.

And I’ve got a space dedicated to practice, such as it is–as long as I keep clearing the prickly pear, the yucca, the stick-tight burrs, and the stubborn juniper saplings.  The piñons, I run around.

But it wasn’t always that way–and even now, given that this area has a significant winter, desert adobe clay soil, and enough of an ongoing drought to kill all the stabilizing grasses, there are plenty of months when the agility yard footing is an astonishingly slippery clay sort of quicksand.

(You want to know how desperate I am about this footing?  I’m currently spreading horse poo to stabilize the soil on the way out to the agility area.  Oh yes I am!  Because walking on dried horse poo is at least possible.)

I love my agility area, but let’s just say I’m always ready to work around its challenges, just as I used to work around not having equipment at all.  For me, it’s all about breaking things down in a modular way–into component behaviors that build the foundation for the final, complex behavior.

That sounds very fancy.  But when I started doing it, I couldn’t have put those words together to describe it.  I wasn’t familiar with clicker training and the only agility instructor within 3 hours had left.  Then, as now, I did most of my training at home.

Under challenging circumstances, it becomes a matter of thinking about the pieces a dog needs to understand as part of the big picture–and particularly with regards to how that individual dog thinks.  With backyard pieces, you can lay a decent foundation for agility long before a dog is old enough to take jumps, wriggle through weaves, or face a full-height contact obstacle.

When I got ConneryBeagle, I knew I couldn’t target on contacts–in fact, I don’t even want him to think about putting his nose down at contacts.  He needed concrete, stable, environmental cues–not facing cues, body patterning, or amorphous concepts.

I used a single step in my house to teach him “run and sit with your butt on one surface and your feet on another.”  By the time he saw a contact obstacle, he had a very strong understanding of his personalized contact zone behavior.

Dart Beagle came to me with no idea where his feet were at any given moment.  He learned about those feet on the railroad ties that stabilize our startlingly narrow back yard (there’s a young arroyo behind us)–not only running along them, but perching in a neat down–feet tucked up, or no clickie-cookie!  For the same reason, he learned to climb and sit an upturned bucket; he learned to fling himself down on planks in the living room.  He walks curbs when we’re out, as well as those cement parking bumpers.

All those feets are tucked away--cookie time!

To this day, I keep a batch of planks leaning against the book case.  They served to teach a straight front (in progress), and to run ahead to his down on contacts.  They helped him understand the concept of the moving down and a straight finish–and I’m certain we’re not done with those things.

Dart, still figuring out exactly where his body is relative to the rest of the world... But he readily cleared the jump, so all was well!

Both dogs learned their running contact behavior in the house, and took it whole cloth to the equipment. To prevent contact leapage, they use a diagonal motion on the downside of the equipment.  Connery learned this at age five; Dart learned it from the start.  (Frankly, I never did have to worry about what Belle and Jean-Luc Cardigans would do on a contact.  Short legs and “keep ‘em moving” meant a natural running contact.)

We did Dart’s early weave poles on the tiny patio outside my office (and inside the house!).  In the strip of a back yard–with its single jump–he first learned rear crosses, funky weave entrances, and “send to jump.”  To introduce concepts that will layer understanding in body use, attention, and release, and I use the walls of the hall, the back of the couch, crate entry and exit…all the pieces of their normal environment.  Dart doesn’t get dinner without performing some randomly chosen behavior–he not only needs the self control, he needs the constant structure.  So I’m using his basic needs to develop a daily reinforcement of bottom-layer agility and obedience skills.

You see where I’m going with all this.  I hope!  We don’t all have convenient training facilities; we don’t all even have backyards, or have them available all seasons of the year.

But we have our brains.  We know our dogs and how they think and what they need–and in fact, now that I’ve learned to think this way, I’d do all these things as foundation work even if I had a full-size agility yard out my back patio.

The house and yard–or apartment, hallway, and surroundings–are teaming with objects and circumstances just waiting to be co-opted into use.

Eventually, of course, the dog needs to put it all together on a course, and on real equipment–generalizing and proofing are necessary steps.  But if all the pieces are there, it’s suddenly not a big deal after all.

ConneryBeagle! Photo by ByVine Design.

So, you know, sometimes when it comes to settings for my books, I make things up.

No, really!

And sometimes I create Tardis-like areas in the middle of real places, and then I make things up, but within those parameters.

And sometimes I use real places and I research the patootie out of them.  It’s easier now with Google Earth and satellite maps and such, but boy, when I was doing Capetown for the FEMME FATALE novella I had to engage some serious research mojo, and I was thrilled when someone who’d been there said that I nailed it.

Every now and then, I have the chance to tramp around a book setting in person.

There should be a caption that follows me around at times like these.  “Step back!  Make room!  The muse is about to WALLOW.”

Last weekend, I should have been at an agility trial.  Instead, the night before the departure, ConneryBeagle was badly injured.  We cancelled the trip and there are some details and updates over on FaceBook, but for now I’ll just say it was a freak yard thing, and no, we don’t know if he’ll be able to run agility again, and yes, I’m still crying.

And also, that there’s only one thing to do when stuff like this hits: not only does the muse get to WALLOW, but I take her out to the kind of place that comforts me–up into rugged trails.

Convenient, then, that I’m working away at the third RECKONER book in the background of my other projects, and that a certain amount of the action takes place on the side of the very mountain looming up to the west of Casa Durgin.

So I grabbed up some company and I grabbed up Dart Beagle, and off we went.  For the first little bit, anyway–then the trail got more rugged and it was only me.

I didn’t have the camera for that part, which is just as well–it would have banged around a lot, as the trails were up and down and around and mostly carved into the side of mountain ridges.  Narrow little trails, and during the rare moments when I met up with someone coming the other way, I was very glad for Dart’s boingy qualities.  More than once I asked him to levitate up the side of the mountain to perch like a little mountain goat while other hikers–and their significantly larger dogs–passed us by.

(Dart, it must be said, apparently thought the “perching like a little mountain goat” was the best thing EVER.)

I was also pleased that all of those dogs were on lead, as they’re supposed to be.  That would have been a bad place for the “He’s friendly!” routine.  But everyone was pleasant and responsible, and for the most part it was just me and Dart, surrounded by awesomeness.  I love wandering the microclimes of a desert forest–everything changes so quickly with altitude and orientation.  Is it south or north facing?  Shaded by another ridge, or out in the open?  High or low?

Dart thought it was awesome, too.  Four miles of nonstop awesome.  At one point he was so excited by all the new scents that he started giving voice right there on the trail.  It was an Intensity of Want.  And it gave him a whole new perspective on what it’s like to walk together.  Real life stuff, not ho-hum down the road.

On the return loop, in the flatter, wider area near the parking lot, I did run into a couple who thought their three very large dogs were speshul off-lead snowflakes.  Naturally, at least one of these loose dogs was completely non-responsive to recall, and approached us with a dominant body language–head low, neck stiff, tail raised high and held tight.  I’d gone off the trail to put Dart up on a picnic table, but onward it came, so I smacked my nice stout walking stick in its face (against the table bench, which tells you how close it got).  “I don’t know you!” I said loudly.  Smack!  “You are not welcome!” Smack!  

Dog’s dawning realization: Crap, this lady is nuts.  Maybe I don’t care THAT much about bullying that Beagle thing.

Dog’s Owner (everybody, join in the chorus!): He’s friendly!

Me (with the stick still locked and loaded): I DON’T CARE.

And maybe I was channeling Garrie’s reckoner attitude, because I didn’t.  I’m tired of stressing over confrontation caused by people who think their dogs are speshul snowflakes.  Responsible dog owners make sure their beloved pets don’t cause problems for other people.

So they moved on to bother the next person who didn’t want to be visited, and we went on our way unruffled to finish up the hike.

Soo…  Connery’s still injured.  The world has still been sad and overwhelming lately, with the Lyme flaring up to greet it.  But Dart had a great time (and slept hard on the way home!), and I got to wallow in a couple of hours of hiking and not thinking, and the muse got to wallow in scene setting, and found some great story landmarks and even a couple of plot developments.

Soon enough, the season will turn, and those trails will be impassible with snow and ice.  But before then, the muse says, I’ll find another day for wallowing.

Where do you wallow?

by Doranna

The Write Horse feature marches on!  Patty Wilber (she of “I went to the Worlds!” fame) will still be hanging out here with us on the newly flexible WordPlay blog.

*kermit waves*  YAAAAAAAAAAY!

And soon, it seems, I’ll have some lovely stories about finding the leak in the water line that’s somewhere between the cut-off and the barn.  Except that even with the cut-off OFF, it still leaks some, so we kinda wonder if its not involved.  Either way, there’s no external evidence, so we’re rigging up a Listenometer with a PVC pipe, styrofoam cup, and stethoscope (with thanks to Mark Himes of Beecher City, Il).

But with 10 days of dog event pile-on before us, it’ll be a while before we can dig.  So we’re turning off the main at night, too.  Yes, we are insane.  But it’s the DESERT!  AHHHHH!

Meanwhile, here is Dart Beagle with his bed wrassling:

Never a comfy feeling, that.

This summer, I’ve been pretending I’m not naked in public.  In fact, I’ve been pretending really hard.  But at some point, the gig is up.

Yes, I’ve been faking it.

There have been clues here in the blog, but not loud ones.  The truth is, after 25 years of disabling more-or-less mystery illness, late this spring I was diagnosed with long-term Lyme disease.  I don’t have a habit of talking about this aspect of my life, because after 25 years I’m used to it and I don’t figure there’s a lot to talk about.  I talk around it a lot, but it’s not much evident from the outside looking in–only if you already know.

The other reason is that when you open a dialogue about a disease as controversial as Lyme, you need to be prepared to follow up on it, and I haven’t had the energy to do that.

The thing about treating Lyme at this chronic stage is that the little spirochete bastards are buried deeply in your whole body–muscles, organs…nervous system.  Symptoms wax and wane–and in my case, frankly, had reached a point of steadily increasing affect–but none of it is truly acutely active.

Until you start to treat it.  Treatment dredges things up.  If you’re me, you also react to the treatment protocol itself.

So although I had all those years of coping behind me, suddenly I was in over my head.  I started committing Big Stupids.

Big. Stoopids.

The deadlines have been barely met; the dogs have been lightly trained; the horse has been barely ridden.  I’ve been skating through on very thin ice.  But sadly, I’ve reached that moment where I can’t fake it any longer, so here we are.

The crux moment happened last Thursday evening as I was preparing for the weekend’s agility trial.  (For some reason, our Q rate has plummeted.  I just can’t imagine why.  But the dogs are a big part of what keep me going, so we still go out to play.)  I had to check something on the AKC site and while I was there, I poked my nose into the dogs’ records–where I discovered that contrary to my belief, Dart had NOT earned his Excellent Standard title in August.

Therefore, I had entered him in the wrong class at the early September trial (Excellent B, for dogs with the title; he should have been in Excellent A, for dogs without that title).  And he was entered in the wrong class for this past weekend.  And there was nothing to be done to fix it, and yeah, there it was…

The really public Big Stupid.

So even though Dart qualified a couple of times these past weekends, and even though those courses were exactly the same as the Excellent A courses, and even though those qualifications would in fact have finished out his title…well, they don’t count for a thing.  In a few weeks I’ll get a letter from AKC scolding me for being in the wrong class and making sure I know that the qualifying courses don’t count and thanks for the entry fee donations and what was I even thinking?!

So there you are.  And it was embarrassing, and upsetting, and really, really frustrating–since had I not messed up, Dart would have the title in question as of today.

Well. Really, I have a system for keeping track of this stuff.  And really, I’m not just randomly dropping out, messing up, or just plain forgetting.  (In fact, it’s kind of scary to be me right now, knowing that in spite of my best efforts, the next Big Stupid is waiting right around the corner.)  But meanwhile, we took the dogs out for a weekend of agility fun, and they had fun, and on Sunday I even felt a little hint of acuity and Connery ran with resounding cheer and Dart had his best standard run ever, that silly little boy.

And now that I’m publicly naked…I hope you’ll pardon the Big Stupids as they come along!