Looking Good, Being Good
I took Brady and Camm to a USDAA trial Saturday. I run USDAA maybe once, twice a year? It was also Camm’s USDAA debut.
It was a fun trial. The people I hang out with often determine for me if it is a fun trial or not. Yesterday was fun because, well, my dogs are usually fun to hang out with, but I also enjoyed hanging out and talking with the people I did. I think that some of the usual pressure cooker vibe at most of the USDAA trials I’ve been at seemed to be missing. It was nice.
Still, there was some of the vibe there. Brady and Camm both walked into the arena in the morning for height measurements and instantly became all googly-eyed.
It was a good day, but glad I’m home today just chillaxing with the dogs.
I ended up taking all four dogs to the trial. Youke and Jasmine just went for moral support. They were extremely supportive of the running around in the fields in the sun and playing ball portions of the day.
Brady and Camm had some great moments, and some not so great moments. Typical agility for us in many ways. I think the trial highlight for me was when the rails came off in Camm’s Steeplechase run and she went THROUGH the triple jump. Yup. That’s right. Not over it. Not around it. Through it. And not a single bar displaced.
That wee girl is amazing.
Another highlight, and a funny moment, at least to me, was when I got complimented on my well-behaved dogs.
Say what??!
I was walking all four back to The Living Room on Wheels after a play session in between runs. I had all four on leash as they have a tendency to race back to their vehicle, mainly to beat each other to the water bowl, and didn’t want them running into someone or another dog that I couldn’t see from my vantage point.
All four were walking with a loose leash, were not tangling each other up and were walking in a calm and relaxed manner. It was kind of an amazeballs moment.
Okay, it happens, but really, I just don’t expect that kind of thing.
A woman getting her dogs out of her vehicle near us shouted out her disbelief and pleasure at the miracle she was observing.
“Your dogs are so well-behaved! I could never do that! The leashes would get all tangled.”
She said some other stuff too, all very nice, but I really can’t remember because I didn’t until that moment quite realize what a beautiful moment it was and became dumbstruck.
I recovered though.
“They’re just being show offs. They’re not usually this good,” I said.
See, the thing about having really low expectations constantly is that you’re humbled and grateful for all the amazingly cool things that do happen, especially when it comes to one’s dogs.
So in addition to being pretty chill and not worrying about stuff like Steeplechase runs and cleaning the messy house, today I did the monthly switch out of the dogs’ collars.
Yes, it’s a thing, and it’s my thing.
In another moment of rare self-realization, I realized this morning when I put the fresh collars on the dogs that I have inadvertently conditioned the monthly collar changing as a super positive and fun thing.
“Time for new necklaces, puppers!” I called out as I swished the fresh ones about, tags jangling.
Dogs come into the kitchen and patiently wait as I remove last month’s collars. As usual, I see the moment of relief in Youke’s eyes as he thinks for a millisecond that he won’t have to wear a necklace at all. Also as usual, I see the flick of panic in Brady’s eyes as he thinks his necklace is being removed permanently. This is the difference between a dog that has always known a stable home that has spoiled him rotten, and a dog that lived an unstable and impermanent life in his early years.
I put Youke’s collar on him and as is my habit, wolf whistled at him and then exclaimed, “Look at that sexy new necklace!” Then I wolf whistled at him again.
Clearly, I’ve created some sort of positive association with the low slung out sexy wolf whistle.
Youke beamed at me and wiggled about. The other three started dancing around, trying to be the next for a “sexy necklace.”
I did the wolf whistle for each one and told them how excellent and sexy they all looked. In return, I got happy faces, wagging tails and jumping on me.
Weirdos.
They do look quite sexy though.
- I swear Brady is not playing with a sex toy in that first picture! It’s his “woofie cushion”and it apparently photographs rather suggestively.
Happy Birthday to My Puppy
Youke is eight years old as of today. So incredibly hard to believe my puppy is a senior. Well, in technical dog years I guess.
And I can’t honestly say he’s still a puppy, because he has always been a bit of an old soul. I always joke with him about how grown up he is.
Youke: I’ve always been a grown up.
This is pretty much true. Or at least since he was about six month old.
So, luckily for us all, it was a spectacularly beautiful day, so we celebrated with a party, had an uninvited guest, someone peed their pants and Youke had a special meal.
Youke was joined for his birthday celebration hike in the woods by his besties – Jasmine, Brady and Camm.
Of course, Balls were involved. What’s a birthday celebration without fun games?
We had the accommodations entirely to ourselves.
Clear blue skies overhead and lots of green.
Jasmine is Youke’s oldest friend. Literally and figuratively. He’s adored her since he first set sights on her when I unloaded him from the car. She took slightly longer to warm up to him. All of three days. Maybe the fact that he’d upchucked down the back of my shirt had something to do with it?
She is pretty special. It still startles me when I see how much white is on her face now. Despite that fact, Jasmine is definitely not a grown-up. I’m not sure she’ll ever be. She was on fire today, racing to steal balls from the two boys and then tossing them at my feet. It’s not like she likes to play Ball. She just wants to get them before the boys do. That pisses Brady off immensely, but he’s learned that he gets hit by Jasmine’s linebacker move if he fights for the ball. Much better to let her get it. Youke just patiently jumps out of the way when he sees her coming. Plus, half the time she just drops the ball halfway or doesn’t even pick it up at all.
Happy party guests.
Unfortunately, I was woefully unprepared for Youke’s celebration at home. I usually get them cupcakes or make a special meal.
Brady: Get pork chops.
Me: Brady, you always want pork chops.
Brady: Pork chops are good for all occasions.
Well, that may very well be, but I didn’t feel like stopping at the grocery store on the way home. I remembered that I had some frozen meatballs in the freezer, so figured that’d do.
Youke: But I’m hungry now.
Me: Don’t you want to wait for your meatballs?
Youke: I’m starving!! Can’t you see I’m wasting away???!!!
I went into the garage to get the dogs their kibble, figuring I’d just feed them a couple of meatballs apiece once they were heated.
I returned with a special, and uninvited guest.
I poured the last of the dog food bag into the smaller container I keep in the house and brought it back in. I scooped Youke his portion, and, as is our dinnertime tradition, told him to wait while I scooped everyone else’s portion. Typically, all the dogs must wait until I give them the go ahead. I’m not generally a control freak nazi about stuff like this, but it’s become sort of a game. Plus I enjoy the look of torture on Youke’s face as he is forced to wait to gulp down his meal.
So, after I scooped Youke’s portion, I moved to Camm’s bowl and scooped out her’s. Then I moved to Brady’s bowl, dipped the scoop back in the container, and ….
… Screamed like a girl! Somehow, I’d missed the fact that there was a mouse in the container of dog food.
I dropped the container to the floor with the scream. Miraculously, the container landed right side up and the mouse stayed inside, as did the food. Now, all the dogs were staring at me.
The mouse startled me, but I’m not really afraid of mice per se. I thought quickly and opened the patio door and scooped him/her outside.
I have a cat. But she’s 16 years old and clearly has retired from mousing. During this whole event, she was doing this:
This is pretty much was Satie does most of the time. It’s pretty rare these days that I call her by her real name, which is/was Satan.
Meantime, Youke had taken the opportunity to start eating, so I scooped Jasmine her dinner and let them eat.
Then I noticed a large amount of liquid on the floor. The floor is wood, but I could see there was a slight yellow tint to the nearly clear liquid. Someone had peed on the floor!
My best guess is that my scream startled Jasmine and she got scared and peed. They did drink a lot of water during today’s adventure.
Everyone did eventually get two meatballs and Youke got a special plate of spaghetti and meatballs with red meat sauce.
Cuz he’s special.
Youke, accompanied by someone else who thinks she’s pretty special.
Brady and Camm’s Excellent Canadian Adventure
My house is eerily quiet today. I guess running 10 yards a second does that.
Okay, turns out that while that probably happens in real life with my crew, it really did not on this weekend’s tunnelers course due to a mathematical miscalculation, but running a course in 15.6 seconds (Brady) and 16 seconds (Camm) is still pretty decent.
I love running fast dogs. It can be so incredibly frustrating at times when I cannot get the information needed out to my dogs in time, but it is ever so rewarding when things click.
The first run of the weekend was “Touch ‘n Go.” The courses consist only of contact obstacles – the a-frame and the dogwalk, and tunnels. It’s one of my favorite courses to run and for all four of my dogs, my obvious love of the courses has translated and they’ve all liked it a lot too. I’ve joked for years that with Jasmine it was mostly “touch” and not so much “go.” With Youke, that changed to very little “touch” and all “go.” Brady and Camm have given the game new meaning. They are both convinced the game should be all “go” and the “touch” part is relatively unimportant. That attitude has made touch ‘n go a hard one to qualify in for those two.
Both dogs ran the touch ‘n go course this weekend in 7 yards a second. As expected, Brady blew a contact, thus disqualifying him. Camm, due to her naturally gorgeous running contacts, actually qualified.
But wait! Camm doesn’t have running contacts. Camm does two on, two off.
Camm: “Pretty sure in Canada don’t have to do stoopid stopped contacts. Just go super fast.”
Me: “Not true Camm. You still have to do stopped contacts, even here in Canada.”
Thus, while Camm’s running contacts are very pretty and quite spectacular, I enforced the idea of two feet on the contact and two feet on the ground in her standard runs. All it took was showing her once. (Thank you NADAC for allowing training in the ring!) I went on to praise her lavishly for every stopped contact she did from then on at last weekend’s trial, which was every one.
Camm: “Nice to hear the nice things, but can we get back to running super fast now?”
I took Camm and Brady to Vancouver Island this past weekend for an agility trial. One of my favorite clubs puts on one of my favorite trials there. They are an excellent group of people and a lot of fun and I like to support their trials, which are very small. I especially appreciate how supportive everyone is of each others’ runs and how there is so much praise and cheering and positive comments for every single run. To me, it’s really how every agility trial should be.
Youke and Jasmine got left home sadly. I felt Youke needed a break from trialing and Jasmine is now retired from agility. (Although I may make an occasional exception for a CPE trial.)
Turns out that The Living Room on Wheels is quite spacious when traveling with only two dogs.
Brady has been up to Canada and this weekend’s trial site several times now. However, it was only the second time Camm has gone. It was hard to tell if she even really remembered the first time since it was only her third trial at the time and she was berserk. This was also the first time that just she and Brady traveled together for a trial.
Me: “Hey guys! Look, we’re in Canada now!”
Camm: “I didn’t know we was going to another country! I could hardly see anything since I was in my box. Why you not tell me we go to Canada?”
Turns out there were no issues. Camm is equally as comfortable at a hotel in Canada as she is in the states. She’s also equally bossy of her brother.
Camm: “I get the whole bed.”
However, Brady, feeling a bit pent up from the drive to Vancouver and then the ferry trip, decided it’d be a great idea to bounce up and off the bed and engage Camm in a game of “king of the bed,” complete with loud barking.
This is always a super fun game at home, but not so appropriate for a hotel, especially at 10 pm at night.
So after we played agility all day Saturday, I took the two dogs to a park that’s right on the beach. One of the reasons I love going to Vancouver Island is all of the great places to take the dogs and the fact that much of those places are leash-free.
This is why I’m not convinced Camm remembered going once before. She was beside herself with joy at this place.
Camm: “I love Canada! This place is so exciting.”
She raced around, up and down the beach and through the pieces of driftwood, all the time keeping an eye on me and making sure I noticed her springing gleefully through the air. Truthfully, Brady wasn’t much different. He just distinctly remembered all the places I threw the Ball the last time I was there with him and Youke and made sure I noticed him asking me to throw a Ball on this trip too. Of course, I obliged.
We saw several other dogs. We even saw dogs that Brady normally is very leery of, such as a bouncy standard poodle and a very large and blocky golden retriever. Mr. Friendly though was the perfect American ambassador, responding to their greetings in a calm and civilized manner and even returning wags. I made sure that Camm kept a Ball in her mouth when seeing other dogs as I didn’t want to see any snippish behavior from her, but even she was at ease when the huge blocky golden retriever came right up to her.
One of the key differences I always notice though when I go to this spot is that the people don’t allow their dogs to linger. The dogs get a quick meet and greet and then everyone calmly, but with purpose, moves on.
I’m not gonna lie. I like when people think I have such lovely and well behaved dogs. Which of course I don’t.
After our beach outing, on top of a long agility day, the dogs were just done. I fed them their dinner when we got back to the hotel Saturday night at about 8 pm and they passed out. In fact, Camm and Brady barely moved until 6 am Sunday morning when I took them out for a bathroom break.
We played more agility Sunday – including those two super fast and furious tunnelers runs – before wrapping up the trial and heading out for the long trip home via ferry and Living Room.
It was a good trial for me and the dogs. It included the usual moments of brilliance and the going down in flames parts that I’ve come to expect. Camm did much better than I had expected and showed how much she has matured since my previous trip with her there some 18 months ago. I received many kind and wonderful remarks on my little blaze of glory. Brady was, as almost always, a breathless, thrill-filled adventure ride.
It was a short trip as I had to work both the Friday before and the Monday after the weekend, but we were able to cram a lot of fun in that short space of time. It was also a bit like a vacation to just travel with two dogs instead of the usual four.
Until next time Canada.
A Year Ago…
I’ve become sort of addicted to those memory flashbacks from Facebook that tell you what you posted on the same day a year ago, two years ago, five years ago, and more.
Admittedly, some of the past posts seem silly and some are just plain confusing, never mind vague (vague-booking anyone?). However, some of these blasts from the past send me in fits of laughter, and others thrust me immediately back into that moment of pain, frustration or anger.
This week, mid-March, has been especially interesting. In the last few days I’ve been reminded of the wide and swinging pendulum that was my life at this time a year ago.
I didn’t quite know what to expect when I went back east a year ago for a work trip to the corporate office, but I’d seen the writing on the wall the prior September and knew the winds were a-changin’. When the week was over, I stood on a figurative precipice, pondering whether to leap or hang on by my fingertips.
One post nearly left me breathless as I recalled the despair and panic I felt sitting at Logan Airport in Boston awaiting my return flight home.
I’m not a person that is easily scared or intimidated, nor am I a person that often feels completely helpless or at a loss or that life is beyond my reach. I’ve always relied on my wits, or wit at times, my intelligence and my sense of humour, as well as knowing that the person I can most rely upon is myself. But like all of us, I’ve had events in my life that flat out knocked me down for a while. I guess the good thing is that I’ve never completely felt knocked out. Close maybe, but never quite.
For most of my life people have told me that I’m like a rock. I always had a bit of a laugh at that one, as I’ve often not felt like that. And rocks can crack. Still, life has taught me what I’m made of – and it’s much stronger than any rock – and one thing I don’t do is indulge in pity parties.
Last March was one of those close times. I sat in Logan Airport having a near panic attack and called one of my best friends. When I couldn’t get her, I called my youngest sister. Kerry has been on the receiving end now for the first news of two major shitstorm moments in my life. Last March was the second.
The good news is that while I was bawling my eyes out, in a very public place and without nearly the quality of kleenexes I needed, an idea was born. It was a crazy, ridiculous, completely irresponsible idea, and my baby sister was the only one at the time that fully endorsed it.
Once that crazy idea sprouted, it would not die. And the fact that it would not die sustained me for two more months of absolute shit. Every time some new and stupendously dumbass situation came up at work, that idea was my oasis in the desert and I would revisit the dream, turning it over and over again in my imagination and polishing it. By the time I lost my job in May of 2015, it was a tiny little jewel without a setting. Or a tiny little green sprout in a desert that had sucked me dry.
The idea would not fully spring up and become a tiny flower for six more months and I can’t quite say it’s fully blossomed. But it certain has the potential to be a vibrant and colorful flower.
I suppose that’s how most small businesses start.
So while I cringe a bit when I see those “on this day” reminders from a year ago, I am also reminded that there have been – and most likely will always be – moments of levity provided by my dogs. Like this one, which is from exactly a year ago today:
March 14, 2015
“Doing blind crosses are not for the faint of heart. Eventually, doing one is going to bite you in the ass. Or, get you bitten in the ass. Or maybe somewhere else …
Today’s trial highlight (and maybe the trial highlight of my agility career to date), was doing a blind cross at a tunnel as Camm aka Little Black Speeding Bullet was traveling at warp 9 through said tunnel, only to find the Little Black Bullet suddenly BETWEEN my legs. By the time my slow brain registered what had happened, she was already through my legs and speeding toward the next obstacle. But my body somehow registered the fact that 1) a little border collie was running between my legs out of a tunnel, 2) allowing for involuntary scream due to surprise and fear of stepping on little border collie, 3) little border collie may or may not have taken a swipe at my innermost thigh, and 4) agility spectators and people I will see at most future trials had erupted in laughter. Of course, not a single video or photo of the incident.”
9 to 5
Today was a 9 to 5 kinda day. But in a good way. Not in a “this cubicle is draining all the life energy out of me and I can feel my brain shrinking” kinda way.
And no, I have not traded in a cubicle or the four walls of my home office for this tree cave. Although seriously, how cool would it be to cram yourself into this space and pretend you’re a hobbit with a laptop? When I actually do get a laptop I’m gonna try it. I think it’ll be really super fun to shout out a hello to passersby and scare the crap out of them.
So it was a 9 to 5 day in that I started my day at 9 am with a vet appointment for Camm and ended it just shortly after 5 pm coming down Tiger Mountain in the rain with two of my dogs.
Camm went in this morning for her annual vaccines. She weighed in at a lean and mean 33 pounds. I laughed and told her she was fat.
Camm was not appreciative of the vet’s poking and prodding. In fact, while she patiently. but with increasing irritation bore having her ears turned inside out for the examination, she took great offense to having her lips lifted and fingers poking into her mouth. So much so that she issued a warning snap. The vet tried to make friends by feeding Camm lots of cookies. Camm ate them all, but was clearly peeved. Off she went to the examination room in the back and away from me. We all figured she might be a bit better. We all should’ve figured differently.
The vet came back out after a few minutes to tell me that while she’d given Camm her shots, she had chosen not to take a fecal sample as Camm was “upset” and was spitting out cookies.
I know Camm and I know what Camm does when she doesn’t want to do something or when there’s something she doesn’t like. Camm is also not a very forgiving dog and never forgets anything. Just ask our relationship counselor. Camm has never completely forgiven her for taking that hour’s time at a lesson last year to work directly with Camm on her start line stays. She actually now adores her instructor/relationship counselor and will give her kisses and hugs, but the minute she attempts to run Camm in any kind of drill, Camm turns suspicious and runs right back to me, peeking suspiciously at Andrea from behind my legs.
As soon as we departed the vet’s office, Camm had a lot to say on the brief car ride home. Needless to say, she was not impressed.
Camm: I’m perfect. Why I even need to go see doctor??
The vet on the other hand was impressed with Camm’s overall fitness. She also started to lecture me about how smart border collies are and how they need to do a job or learn tricks. I told her we do agility and hike a lot.
Silence.
After I brought Camm back home, she received the usual curious sniffs from everyone else. The reactions were hysterical and so true to each individual personality. Jasmine got a sniff and slunk off. Youke was very concerned and seemed to be asking Camm if she was okay. For his concerns, he got a smack across the face, then an invitation to play. Brady was downright impressed and got all wiggly. Brady, unlike everyone else, actually loves to go to the vet. He likes to flirt with all of his office lady friends.
After that, I went off to walk other people’s dogs for a few hours.
But because I haven’t put enough miles on this week with walking dogs, I opted to spend the rest of Friday afternoon walking my own dogs. (Insert eye roll.)
Actually, I decided it was a good day to wander about with my own dogs as it was about to rain and I knew all the fair weather folks of this past week out enjoying the unseasonably warm temperatures and sunny skies would be scurrying back inside. Also, they’d be off to happy hour and such and my version of happy hour is a late day Friday hike.
First, I took Youke and Brady since they are both sort of on restricted activity and not being allowed to play much Ball right now. Youke really thinks these leashed walks are beneath him. It’s true, he’s so good off leash that I hardly ever leash him up. But I think what really offends him is the fact that he’s not playing Ball.
Brady, on the other hand, was just over the top excited that he was at a place he’d never been to before. So many new things to sniff and to pee on!
Overall, it was a good time and we barely got rained on.
Please note that Brady has slack in his leash. Also note that Youke does not. Also note position of ears indicating irritated due to lack of Ball.
Note happy faces. This was right after I’d unleashed Youke for five minutes to play with Ball.
Returned home with the boys and told Jasmine and Camm it was their turn to go. So much loud barking. It’s a really good thing I like dogs with big personalities.
In a last minute decision, opted to take Jasmine and Camm to Tiger Mountain on one of my favorite short hikes. I figured the rain and late hour of the day would mean we wouldn’t run into anyone and I was right. By then it was coming down fairly steadily. Nonetheless, we had a lot of fun.
I tried to take some pictures, but the rain and the late hour, and the incredible wriggliness from all the fun, was not conducive to a spectacular photo shoot. Still, it’s pretty clear the girls enjoyed our girls night happy hour.
Z’OMG we’re on a tree!
Squirrel?! Where? Over there? Here?
I am the most smartest, beautiful, badasss and loudest border collie ever. I don’t need to see doctor. Ever.
All that jumping on and off trees and climbing up and down hillsides made me realize why my four-pack all have a six-pack.
Here’s an Idea
Dare I say it’s a radical idea?
How about we consider NOT taking our reactive dogs to places where they will encounter so many of the things that trigger them?
OMG! What? Not go to certain places? Avoid the dog park you say?
Yup. So if my dog is scared of large groups of people or a lot of kids running around, how about I NOT take her to large group gatherings or walk by that playground full of screaming children?
How about instead of blaming that fuck-tard for letting his off-leash dog run up to my leashed dog, I not be a fuck-tard myself and insist on walking my dog on that trail on the weekends where it seems everyone and his brother takes their dog to walk, and most of them are not leashed up?
Again. Radical ideas here.
Let me clarify that I used to be that fuck-tard that insisted on taking her dog to the parks or the popular trails even though it was very clear that she was a bully and was approaching other dogs inappropriately. I quashed the suggestion that maybe my dog’s crouching behavior and then sudden explosion from a crouch into a full-fledged frontal affront accompanied by frantic barking on an approaching dog was somehow wrong. She’s just being playful, I thought.
Nope. She was being an asshole. And it was completely unfair. Unfair not only to the other dogs and their owners that had to deal with it, but also unfair to my dog to keep putting her in that setting and allowing her to practice this behavior, then to scold her for doing it.
Finally, one day a woman scolded me and confronted my response that my dog was simply being playful (even though in my heart I knew she wasn’t) and told me that that my dog was being a bully. The exchange rattled me. But it also brought me to my senses. Although Jasmine was perfectly appropriate in certain environments, she was most definitely not within others.
Furthermore, I finally realized why Jasmine was behaving so inappropriately. She was afraid. And doing what a lot of fearful dogs do, she was going on the offense to alert other dogs that she didn’t want them in her face. After I put the pattern together, I realized she acted this way only with certain breeds and dogs that were her size or larger. She never did it to small dogs, most of whom she was sweet and gentle with. Upon further retrospection, I recalled the time she was chased down by a pair of German Shepherds at the dog park.
She’d been trying to tell me something for a long time.
So when I got Brady, I was a lot wiser. But I still had lessons to learn. Luckily, I caught on a lot faster.
With Brady, I developed the philosophy I presently live by.
My philosophy is a bit different. Instead of blaming others for their dog’s behavior, and ranting that other people are not controlling their dogs, I acknowledge fully that my dog is, or in the case of plural, my dogs can be, a complete jerk or jerks and that John Q. Public and Susie Q. Public do not in general possess nearly the same knowledge about dog behavior that I do. Therefore, it is my responsibility to assure that my dog or dogs behave appropriately. If I cannot assure that to be the case, especially when I have all four together at the same time, then we do not go to places where we may encounter others.
It is simple. My dog, my responsibility.
Of course I wish others would take the same position, but the reality is that they do not. Ignorance may not be a defense under the eyes of the law, but in life, ignorance really is often bliss. Maybe it’s my tendency to see things from so many perspectives, but is it really so wrong for John and Suzie Q. Public to be so offended when they see me trying to control my knashing beast because we are in the presence of their uber friendly clueless retriever and I yell at them to get their dog away from mine? Is it really fair for me to be so pissed off at someone who just has absolutely no idea?
In addition to not wanting to take the fall for the potential behavior of my own dogs, I also do not want them rehearsing certain behaviors. Nor do I want them feeling threatened because I – the being with the allegedly larger brain – put them in a position where they have no choice but to react in a potentially inappropriate way.
I know that my dog snarling at an approaching off-leash friendly dog is not entirely inappropriate. Especially when said friendly dog is bounding up to within a few inches of my dog’s nose. My dog is communicating that he/she does not wish to make a new friend, especially a new friend that is such a close talker. You know, like that person at a party that you just met who squeezes into your personal space and insists on speaking at you within inches of your eyes. And you can smell what they had for lunch. Yeah, dogs don’t like it either.
I just don’t want to put my dogs in the position of having to throw the first punch. It’s not fair to them.
Therefore, I do not insist on take my quartet on packed park trails on summer weekends and on sunny weekends the rest of the year. That way, I don’t place my dogs in a stressful position, or stress myself out, with the expectation that we’re going to be on a level playing field. The issue is quite simple really. Most of the public just has no clue.
Of course it’s not right and of course those with knowledge should continue to try to enlighten those without. But really – is you taking your fear-aggressive dog out to the park and expecting others to abide by a 20-, 40-, 100-foot bubble of space really fair? To your dog? To other people? Especially when you know that there is a high likelihood of the presence of off-leash dogs? What are you trying to prove? That you are the superior asshole?
Is it fair to your dog and to other people and dogs to continue to insist you can take your barking, snapping fearful dog on a run through a public park?
So that’s my rant. My apologies for those that this may offend, and I expect that could be many. I admit I’ve thought about this for a very long time as I know so many people with dogs that don’t necessarily play well with others. I’ve sympathized and gotten angry with you. I get the frustration of dealing with the sudden appearance of an off-leash dog when you are out minding your business with your own dog. I also get the frustration of walking peaceably with your own dog in an area that is signed for dogs to be on leash at all times, when some asswipe shouts how friendly their dog is as he runs into your dog’s face and pays no hither to the calls of his owner to come back.
I’ve been there too. I’ve been shaken as well by those moments. But here’s where my philosophy differs. I don’t keep putting myself, and my dog(s), in those situations and expect a different outcome.
Being righteous doesn’t make you any less of a prick. And it doesn’t do your dog any favors.
Management is key, as is practiced behavior. Brady for instance, never went out, except in my yard, before 6 pm for an entire spring, summer and fall, and often it was much later. That was a very deliberate action on my part, prompted when I realized that being righteous could actually endanger my dog, and others.
When I got to the point where I was comfortable practicing some of the protocol for reactive dogs that we’d learned, I deliberately chose a place that is actively patrolled by state park officers for off-leash dogs to assure I could manage the space Brady needed and proactively work with him and have positive experiences. Very gradually, and I mean very slowly – as in over a year – we worked our way up to more unpredictable places.
I credit that slow, steady and solid foundation, as well as the trust built up over a long period of time, to Brady not taking a huge slide backwards after last year’s dog attack. And even after the attack, because I was worried about the impact on him, I started right back at the beginning, taking him only to well-controlled environments during precise times of the day for the sake of a predictable and managed outcome. The good news is that as we’d built such a good foundation that he demonstrated his ability to handle our normal life – which is still well managed – with no negative consequences from the attack.
So, I’ll continue to abide by my philosophy. But because responsibility is often such a heavy load to carry, and sometimes I want to be carefree, I walk secluded trails, don’t usually go to the pretty places and often walk or hike with my dogs during off-hours, such as moonlit nights.
Oh the Things I Would Do
I did NOT get another new vehicle. But the dogs thought I did.
There was much excitement and cavorting about when JaYoBaCa saw a Chevy Malibu in their driveway Tuesday morning. Camm, especially, was beside herself with excitement and curiosity. And in a telling sign that I’ve driven an SUV for a very long time, all four went to the back of the sedan and looked at me to let them in. That’d be the trunk – or boot for those of you in foreign places. Somehow, I don’t think cramming four dogs into the dark confines of a sedan’s cargo area would be particularly amusing to them once they actually experienced it.
I laughed when I saw their ridiculously excited and eager faces. And I vowed right then and there that if I win the Powerball lottery I will purchase an assortment of vehicles. For them. My dogs.
I like motorized transportation, but I don’t aspire to have a collection like Jay Leno. I just want a few extra to tease my dogs with. I think it would be great to see their faces every time I brought a new vehicle into the driveway.
Of course, that also begs the question of the driveway itself. I’d have to purchase a larger estate in order to house my many more vehicles, all of which would probably be large, since it’s not kosher to drive around with four dogs in a sporty little convertible.
Not that I really want a sporty little convertible. Driving this Malibu reminds me that I’ve driven a SUV for over 15 years. I like being just a little bit higher.
Make what you will of that last sentence.
Seriously though. I like the visibility I get with being in a vehicle further off the ground. Not to mention that I don’t feel quite as vulnerable as when driving a sedan. I see those tiny little Smart cars and cringe. You couldn’t pay me to drive one. Okay, maybe if you bequeathed me your winnings from the Powerball lottery.
Driving this Malibu also made me think of my mother today. She used to complain about sedans made post-1990s as most have curved windshields. It’s an engineering design thing. Aerodynamic and all. She, like me, drove a Jeep for a long time. You cannot get a windshield much flatter than on a Jeep. Then, she moved to a larger SUV, but also with a pretty flat windshield, and one made prior to the more modern and rounded designs in the 2000s. My mother would complain when I came to visit and took her out and about in whatever rental I had at the time that looking out the windshield ahead made her dizzy and feel sick.
At the time, I put it down to another rather eccentric oddity from my mother. But today, as I drove this Malibu on a fast and curvy road back to my house, I finally understood what she was talking about. One more step in my progression toward becoming my mother.
Chalk that one up as yet another crazy thing my mother was actually right about.
So back to my estate. Obviously if I win the Powerball I’ll have to purchase an estate. But not the kind with a McMansion. That would only mean more rooms to vacuum and I think by now I’ve made it pretty clear how I feel about vacuuming. Of course I could hire staff to clean and probably will, but even with millions to my name, I’d still opt for more land over more house.
This land would be for the dogs. I’d love for my dogs to have their own private estate to play in, complete with lots of woods to run in, trails to wander and critters to gaze upon. It would have to be fully fenced because of Brady’s propensity for lengthy walkabouts. The fencing alone will use up a good chunk of my winnings.
Maybe I’d even build an agility arena and invite friends to come play, train and compete. But it’d have to be in a corner of the estate, because some days I don’t feel like talking to anyone.
Naturally, I’ll also have to purchase a private plane. Or I guess I could just have one on call. Despite the vastness of my anticipated estate, I’d still like to go on the occasional vacation somewhere. Preferably to my vacation estates in the mountains and on the ocean. The mountain retreat would also have a large private lake. My dogs like to swim.
Oh, I guess you thought I’d say I’d take a European vacation. Not likely, unless it’s to a property I own in Scotland. But let’s face it, if I’m gonna dabble with sheep, I’d prefer New Zealand.
Hmm… that may mean a couple more dogs now that I think about it.
As you can see, I’ve put a lot of thought in this.
However, step one is, buy a lottery ticket on Wednesday.
New Year
… it has since disintegrated into pretty much boring and mundane. At least according to JaYoBaCa.
Youke earned his second championship title over the weekend. C-ATCH 2 to be precise. Yup, he’s absolutely thrilled.
Okay, well he was pretty happy when he got it. Because I was thrilled when he got it. We got to do a nice silly happy dance around some jumps ‘cuz that’s what you do in agility when something big happens. Oh, there’s cheering and clapping, and usually someone’s barking. I heard and saw none of it. I only saw the most best little spotty dog in the world that I adore so much that sometimes I think I can’t breath from the crush of the weight of my love for him.
Camm and Brady were pretty awesome too. In fact, the entire weekend was super special. I really don’t think I’ve had such a successful weekend in terms of performance and in terms of liking how I handled courses with my dogs since October 2014.
Everything was just consistently good. I have my relationship therapist to thank for much of this confidence. We worked a short and tricky sequence with Brady a couple of weeks ago that actually turned up in this past weekend’s jumpers course. I saw it, felt the confidence rise and then just killed it. And not just once, but with all three dogs.
I told her about it and thanked her for teaching me those mad skills. Mostly I think she’s just glad that all that trying to knock stuff into my head finally worked. To some extent.
But mostly the dogs thought the snow, and playing Ball between runs was super fun.
Good thing I was feeling all warm and fuzzy inside, because it was brutally cold all weekend. Cold as in my nipples got chapped kinda cold. Yes, that’s a thing and it can happen.
While the weekend was a blast, the week leading up to it was crazy insane busy and slightly stressful. I probably felt great because I essentially slept all day New Year’s Eve and much of New Year’s Day.
Youke is also a champ at napping with me. Really, there’s nothing this dog can’t do.
The two weeks that encompassed Christmas and New Year’s were full of dog walking and pet vacation visits – all good for my newly launched business, and hikes with my own dogs, including a couple of nice long ones. This time of year, especially since I’ve returned to earning money to pay my mortgage and for premium dog food and agility entry fees, the limits of daylight mean I can get the dogs out for an hour or two at the most, most of the time. Therefore it was really nice to stretch our legs and go for some nice long jaunts.
And my new crates for The Living Room on Wheels arrived. It was good they arrived on a day that wasn’t raining. It was bad for the dogs because I’d designated the day as a hiking day, but took the window of opportunity instead to put together my new crates.
Three hours later I had my new crates put together and inside the spacious confines of The Living Room on Wheels. Then it was dark. Sad day for the puppies.
So I bought the highly rated and expensive Gunner crates because they were allegedly fairly easy to construct. I deliberately chose not to purchase the Variocage kennel once I watched the video on how to put them together and saw that the average time to construct them is 45 minutes, allegedly. I know myself and my skill set and realized that was an average and someone (me) would be on the outermost point of that spectrum. After watching the video for the Gunner kennels, I figured I had a good shot.
First off, let me say that I was super impressed that I not only own several different types of screwdrivers, but apparently also an Allen wrench set. I did not know about this latter. I found it while searching for the screwdriver I needed. What a win for me!
And that was pretty much the extent of the joy of putting together those things. I spent three hours in 40-degree weather on my deck – at least it was sunny – crawling around inside large plastic boxes and continually lifting, then rolling said boxes.
At least crate number two took half the time to put together as crate number one.
The issue wasn’t the putting together part, that was really actually fairly easy. It was the properly fitting together part and lining up the holes part then inserting the various bolts and screws without losing those pieces underneath my deck part that was hard.
I think I did a fairly decent job. One has a door that rattles a tiny bit and they’re not supposed to, but they seem really solid. I’m tempted to take that one apart and do it over. Just not right away.
After all that, I then had to carry the kennels down the stairs of my deck, onto the slope of my driveway and lift, against the gravity of the driveway slope, up and into the Living Room on Wheels. They weigh close to 50 pounds apiece.
Good thing I possess superhuman strength.
Then I had to nap for nearly two days.
Despite observing a deflating tire on The LRoW New Year’s Eve, I slept. On New Year’s Day, it looked more deflated. Since nothing was open, and I was convinced I had a slow leak, I instead opted to deck out The LRoW and strap down the new crates.
The LRoW is now adorned with crates, as well as a large dog bed and blankets for the front seats for when we arrive at agility destinations. I figure that Youke and Camm will still desire to curl up in the front seats between runs and playing with Ball and Brady can stretch out on the bed, as can Jasmine when she joins us on road trips.
Since I now have a second vehicle, I’ve also realized that I had to outfit it with all the necessary equipment – leashes, balls, poop bags, reading glasses, spare towels, tug toys, etc. – so I don’t have to switch back and forth. While that was easily done due to the plethora of dog-related stuff, and extra reading glasses, that I possess, I still had to think about things that I just automatically take for granted. Plus, I had to arrange it. That’s how I spent the first day of 2016.
I thought The LRoW would be making its maiden voyage to this weekend’s trial, but I decided not to risk a possible flat. Besides, the smaller interior of the Jeep holds the heat of three dogs a lot better and I figured they’d stay warmer in the smaller vehicle.
Found out today that nothing, thankfully, is wrong with any of the tires on The LRoW, they just all had terribly low air pressure. Whew.
So now, life is back to normal. A new normal. A normal that will likely morph several times as the next 12 months unfold. I’m excited about developing my business, and a tad bit nervous. Luckily, mostly excited as so far it’s progressing faster and better than I had anticipated.
And while I deliberately decided to embark upon a path that allows me time with my dogs, I’m still gone for several hours a day. This is new for JaYoBaCa. I informed them today that it still beats being gone for 12 hours a day due to working at an office job downtown and dealing with a hellacious commute. Plus, when I do get back home I reach for a Ball or tug toy instead of an alcoholic beverage.
Dogs don’t care. They just want to have fun.
Muddy Christmas!
I took JaYoBaCa on our annual Christmas Eve hike and we found snow!
We also found a whole lot of mud, but it was close to 4 pm so the pictures didn’t come out that great. Luckily though, the snow washed away most of the mud.
Ironic that it’s colder here and we found snow within an hour of us when back east it’s practically tropical.
I suspect tonight that when my sugarplums are snug in their beds that while visions of something will fill their heads – like maybe the pork chops they had for dinner tonight, the rabbits they got to chase today or the balls they like to chase, they won’t feel like getting up too early.
Merry Christmas to me!
And Merry Christmas to you!
Living Room on Wheels
I bought my dogs a car on Monday.
It’s fancy. At least fancy for me. I’ve never owned a vehicle that told me what was playing on the radio or that had so many controls that I need to figure out. It’s like a freakin’ spaceship. Or a jetliner. Or something.
It took about 10 minutes to figure it out, but I love the seat warming feature. Especially important when sitting on leather when it’s cold outside. The seats are more comfortable than my couch. I see long road trips ahead in our future.
So spacious. This will be good in case my new pet sitting business tanks and I become homeless. Plenty of room for me and the dogs and a hot plate. I’ll just convert the ginormous middle console feature to a ‘fridge.
The third row seats come out entirely, and they will after tomorrow, probably to never be seen again. The second row folds down completely.
So, while the dogs now think it’s a playground and they can ride without touching one another after years of so much touching, I have a surprise in store for them.
Crates.
No more stressful sights of school buses, tractor trailers and white panel vans for Brady. No more yips from Camm about how someone is on her tail and she needs all of the space. No more pained looks from Youke that Camm insists a dog as small as she is should take up so much room. No more aggrieved pleadings from Jasmine as to why can’t everyone just get along. Now everyone will get their own room.
Surprisingly, they do get along very well, despite having been cramped up in a small space in the back of the Jeep. It’s always been especially sweet on long road trips or when coming back from hours in the woods that they all just curl up against each other and ride it out in the back without a peep.
But that’s a lot to expect of four medium to larger sized dogs with outsized personalities and I feel I’ve pushed it.
The plan for a Living Room on Wheels has been in effect for a number of years; even before I got Camm, although I became more serious about it when she arrived. Now, with the recent launch of my business and a specific plan to expand the offerings, I decided it was time to invest in a larger vehicle, both for the business and for personal use.
I’d had my eye on a couple of options, but was most concerned about the simple fact that I needed larger. I’d long coveted the rides of friends in the agility community, but also long ago decided a minivan was not my thing. While I like how many of the crossovers drive and handle, I dislike the slope shape of most of them and didn’t see that they’d really offer the additional room I was looking for. Now, you can laugh as the Jeep is fairly tiny and almost anything would provide more room, but I like the idea of camping out in my vehicle should an opportunity arise. I also like the idea of perhaps someday being able to tow something. That’s not in the immediate future any time soon, but I like to keep options open. Mostly, I wanted room for the dogs, dog crates and the paraphernalia that comes with attending agility trials.
I also wanted something high that I could see out of easily, that had good visibility all the way around, was comfortable for road trips, but easy to drive around everyday in and in which I felt safe.
For me, the choice became simple – an SUV. Eventually it came down to Chevy versus Ford and how big I was gonna go.
I was bored late last week and just randomly started searching for Tahoes. Surprisingly, I found several that fit my general criteria in terms of how much I wanted to spend and mileage. I made calls on two. One of them though I almost immediately dismissed after I made the call as although it had incredibly low mileage, I still thought the asking price was too high.
Obviously I know I can negotiate that, but I hate car shopping and the day spent at the dealer when I bought my Jeep several years ago only furthered my disgust. In the end, I had my sights set on the one I ended up buying.
However, I had stuff going on Friday, Saturday and Sunday and couldn’t go see it. In much the same way I handle so many other things in life, I simply decided that if it was meant to be, the vehicle would be there still when I went to see it – despite the sales guy telling me that a vehicle like that would go fast.
Yeah right, buddy.
Sure enough, it was there when I arrived Monday afternoon. I got to do a nice long test drive, unaccompanied by a dealer representative and started to fall in love a little.
At 4:30 pm, I walked back into the showroom after my test drive and told the guy I was interested. Of course, then the fun and games began.
Except they didn’t ‘cuz homey don’t play that.
They guy told me he’d worked down the numbers and showed me his new offering price. Only I couldn’t see it because I’d left my reading glasses in my Jeep. I told him I’d be back.
I returned, saw the price and told him no. He then countered. I saw where this was going and told him I wanted it for my price and that I wasn’t going to budge because “although I liked it, I don’t like it that much.”
Clearly he thought it was game on. Except I then stood up, told him I was going to use the bathroom and that he could think about it while I was gone.
I think that maybe he was a little stunned.
I had a little chuckle in the bathroom, but also vowed not to compromise. My price was fair and I knew he’d still make something off it. In fact, I’d decided on the price when I looked at the vehicle on the dealer’s web site days earlier. And I wasn’t moving.
I came back out, walked over to the sales guy, silently communicating I was not going to play games, and he stood up, shook my hand and said we had a deal.
Of course, now I wished I’d been more of a hard ass and gone lower.
Whatever. I’m now the proud owner of a 10-year-old Chevy Tahoe with less miles on it than my 2009 Jeep.
It was dark by the time I got home Tuesday after running errands, thus I have no video of the dogs seeing their Christmas/Birthday/Best Dogs Ever present. Really, it should’ve been on video, because it was FREAKIN’ HILARIOUS. So much jumping up and down. So many smiles and doggie laughter. So much checking out of the spacious roominess. So much jockeying for the best spots. Jasmine was so excited she jumped in and out three times, despite it being parked on the steep incline of my driveway.
And they haven’t even gone for a ride yet.
Over the next week or so I’ll remove the seats, play some Tetris with crate spacing and sizes and get a barrier so Youke will not feel compelled to utilize the heated leather seat on the passenger side. I know that dog, and he will totally think that’s a special feature just for him.
I’ll also be spending the next week trying to figure out all the bells and whistles and poring over the owner’s manual. This thing is tricked out. Fittingly, the manual is about the thickness of a dictionary.
YoBaCaRy 