First Runs

(Confessions of a Rookie Handler, by Patsy Meehan)

I am a breed and obedience ring dropout.  It all became clear to me one day while we were training for our CDX.  The dog sitting in front of me with the dumbbell in her mouth had the exact same look on her face that I used to give the mother who sent me to the piano lessons that I so loathed.  You see I didn’t want to play the piano. I wanted a horse. 

A running, jumping horse that was as fast as the wind.  Yet I played, because they made me, and I did the worst possible job of it.  In time I wore them down.  At age nine the running, jumping horse was mine!  So I guess it is only natural that I inherited a running, jumping puppy - an Evil-Kanevil who would fling herself off the top of the couch with wild abandon, and often greeted my arrival home from the top of the kitchen table.  It was inevitable that we would end up in agility. 

I joined Jumping Chollas Agility Club in Phoenix and began taking classes.  I read books and articles.  I worked at several of the shows.  I watched those of you who make it all look so effortless.  We could do all the obstacles, so how hard would it be, I asked my dog, to put them all together in the ring?

So with more guts than skill I ventured to the Tucson trial last spring.  The morning of our inaugural run found me dragging a snoring Great Dane out of my bed at 4:45 a.m.  On the drive to Tucson I imagined the perfect run - effortlessly cruising through the course amid cheers from the crowd, with all those little herding dogs looking on in envy!  In the dark recesses of my mind glimmers of our enthusiasm for leaping over the “tall broad jump” and the “launching pad” (the obstacles the rest of you refer to it as the “table” and “A-frame”) loomed, but I quickly pushed them away.  In the dark recesses of my back seat an unholy rumbling emanated from my petite girl who had quickly resumed her beauty sleep.

The course walk was shorter than the mental courses we had ran on the drive down, however, every step, every command was perfectly timed in my “virtual run”.  I eagerly watched every run, every dog, and every handler before me.  I made mental notes of “do that” and “don’t do that”, and on occasional I laughed as some dogs did things the way dogs of independent thought do.  Then we were up.  The Diva was positioned at the start, eagerly waiting for my que.  Then it hit me, as I was standing there in the ring… “Oh crap,” I thought. I had absolutely no idea when I was supposed to start!  At that exact moment, from behind me I hear a familiar voice from my training class yell, “look at the timer”. 

It was Wendy Hultsman (current NADAC 24” National Champion), one whom I have watched, one who makes it look so effortless.  THANK YOU Wendy – not so much for the directions, but for not following your instructions with the word “IDIOT!”.  I had a fleeting thought that one of the great advantages of agility is that there is not enough time while you were in the ring to dwell on the embarrassment of your mistakes.  Little did I know that, as has happened so many times in my short show career, my dog would soon prove me wrong!  We were off! 

We’re jumping, we’re running, we’re using “come” and “out” in combination with the correct obstacle names!  Four obstacles down, man we’re really good!  Oooops, demon teeter, went bang and the Diva jumped off, that’s ok, more jumping, yikes! an impressive leap from the top of the A-frame (do they give points for “hang time”?), more running and jumping, we’re good at that!!!  I held my breath as we screeched to a halt and slowly climbed on the table and sat down.  Yeah!!! It wasn’t pretty, but we didn’t use it to launch our self into space or jump over it.  Off again to the home stretch…more jumping, faster, faster, we LOVE to jump!!!  A brief halt at the dog walk and without thinking I grabbed her collar (gasp!  the horrors of training in the ring at an AKC event!) and across we go. 

Great Dane in a tunnel to the cheers of the crowd!!!   Go Diva go, over the last jump and I see her crouching as she heads for the chute… so I stand up and run by the chute to wait for her at the end - woops!  Wait, stop, come back here… what I meant was IN the chute…  ok, run around the chute, in the chute, yes this chute right here…  and out of the ring!  What a delightful happy dog grin!  OK, we had a list of handler errors as long as a Great Dane’s ‘arm’, but it was a run worthy of a stop for ice cream nonetheless.  Besides, tomorrow was a new day and I would be a veteran and that makes all the difference! 

Run two I stepped up to the start, I looked at the timer, we were off!  We were jumping, jumping, oh my god, it was the dreaded “donkey” look at the dog walk.  From the onset I knew that this was a bad thing.  With three feet firmly planted on the ramp to the dog walk, she glared.  Neither of us blinked – a battle of the wills had begun.

“Go Diva, walk-walk.”  “Make me.” (this is Diva talking back, as she does)

“Come on, let’s go.”  I run up to her, I clap my hands, I am uncharacteristically enthusiastic “go walk, go walk.”  “I am the master of the universe.”

“Go Diva, go walk.”  I’m still sounding happy!  “The humans are all staring at you, you look ridiculous.”

“Walk-walk, lets walk.“  I am begging now.  “Na-na can’t get me in the ring!”

“Go walk, go, go.”  “The judge is laughing at you behind your back.”  Totally unprepared for the situation I was in, I turn and look at the judge, who graciously smiles and says “you still have time”.  Death would be preferable to this!

And just when I think it can’t get much worse, a small girl from the crowds yells “come on Diva, I KNOW you can do it!”, in the pleading voice of a child with great hope.  The crowd is in hysterics.  “Don’t you wish the ground would open up and swallow you?”

I go to Plan B - “OFF!!!”  “ No.”  I see my friend Janie at the end of the ring, lending the only support and assistance a dear friend can in times of crisis… she is taking pictures, which I know will be posted on the internet.

For some reason, which I absolutely cannot fathom, that evening the story of public humiliation at the hands of the stubborn dog with the defiant glare brought shrieks of laughter from my mother.  So it was,  that the mother who has accepted dogs in lieu for grandchildren,  left my house that day, still in fits of hysteria.  As she hugged her grand-dog goodbye, she muttered something about there really being a God after all, and all things being right in world.  Maybe she was right.  We went out for ice cream.