Closing on the end of an era–?

SUMMARY: They’re Just Big Chunks of Plastic, Right?

Previous posts on this topic:

As I related in Mat Matters, my dog mats… crating mats… canopy mats…   oh, right, agility mats… came to me through happenstance between 1997 and 2012.  Their two common features were:  purple. And agility.  I’d have preferred teal or blue with the purple, but, OK, purple.

After that post, my first two mats went into the trash, just too beat up.  The other two were good–one (purple and black) brand new then; the purple and white only a couple of years older, but its edge already fraying, which I never did get around to taping up.

Since (sigh, sob, sad, shoulders droop) 2014 they have been sitting on the same shelf in the garage where I kept them for the preceding 13 years. Sitting. Just sitting there. Waiting. Wanting to be out on a field somewhere, or on the dirt of an arena, or really anywhere.  Wanting matching dog crates resting on them, protecting them, dogs comfy inside them. Matching chairs. Matching leashes. Matching gear bags and toys.

Shocks me every time I realize how long it has been since I tried competing in agility.  “Just a temporary setback,” I told myself.

Today, needed to tidy some garage shelves.

Had already gone thru boxes of paper/plastic plates, cups, and plasticware.
Notice a theme in colors even here?
I used to have a lot of parties and barbecues…

Dog gear that used to fit on a shelf and a half had gradually flowed from the initial shelf up and down and across. Same gear that used to fit! So, get to it. First thing, I grabbed the mats to pull them down– and was showered with purple! (shock, startle, jump back) The purple and white literally disintegrating in my hands!

Holy crappola–is this actually a thing that happens?!

The mat. The frayed side/binding at the bottom from way back, but the crumbling purple is new…

The black and purple is fine. So, really, I guess the P&W was of cruddy quality from the beginning.  Spent 20 minutes taking the mat outside for a final photo, putting it into the trash, and then cleaning up piles and miles of scattered crumbling mini-to-micro plastic bits, on the shelves near the mats, on the floor under the mats, in a trail across the garage, in piles on the sidewalk where I spread it for photos, sweeping and vacuuming Purple.

I keep feeling the edge of my agility era creeping closer. I’m not yet ready to admit that I’m done. I might not be done–since I had been taking Zorro to class before my knee surgery followed by the worldwide COVID-19 pandemic quarantine, with many cases in my county, not going to be one of the first to open much up quickly, either.  Don’t know where it will all go. But–another mat gone. Another connection.

But, so–just mats. But with nearly 300 weekends of competition–which means likely 1000 days of competitions–plus seminars, and classes, and fun activities–  It’s all part and parcel of Being An Agility Person.  So strange.

Getting Through Challenges

SUMMARY: Like The Pattern in the Amber series, sometimes things are easy, and then you hit a veil

From Facebook: First paragraph is a comment I posted Oct 27, 2019.

Lord of the Rings: My dad loved the books, my younger sisters loved the books, but every time I tried to read the first in the trilogy, it bogged me down in, I think, extreme detail, scene setting, and expository text. But in my junior year of college (or possibly a few years later) I picked it up again, and loved every word. At that point I wasn’t entirely sure which part I had had trouble with initially.

It’s not that I didn’t read: I read voraciously, and much of it was fantasy or science fiction. I’m sure that, by then, I had read the first 3 or 4 Amber books, and the Pattern intrigued me; but for a long time, LotR presented a veil that I couldn’t get through.

[Corwin begins walking the pattern–] Then the thing began to curve, abruptly, back upon itself. I took ten more paces, and a certain resistance seemed to arise. It was as if a black barrier had grown up before me, of some substance which pushed back upon me with each effort that I made to pass forward. I fought it. It was the First Veil, I suddenly knew. To get beyond it would be an achievement, a good sign, showing that I was indeed part of the Pattern. Each raising and lowering of my foot suddenly required a terrible effort, and sparks shot forth from my hair. I concentrated on the fiery line. I walked it breathing heavily. Suddenly the pressure was eased. The Veil had parted before me, as abruptly as it had occurred. I had passed beyond it. [Read more of this excerpt.]

– from Nine Princes in Amber, by Roger Zelazny 

I also hit a veil when learning subtraction (though addition was simple) and division (though multiplication was simple). Eventually I earned a degree in Math, so apparently I made it through that particular Pattern.

I hit many veils in dog agility, things that I had at one time or another believed that I would never achieve: Getting a gamble. Earning a title.  Earning a more advanced title.  Understanding Snooker rules. Doing a smooth front cross. Earning a championship. Having a dog in the USDAA Top Ten.  Earning many championships with 4 different dogs. Still, I often felt that I had never truly completed that Pattern.

Once upon a time, I cared enough about it that I worked at it. But, true to my life’s story, I seldom worked at it to the best of my potential. That felt to me like an overwhelming veil that enveloped all others. Sure, there were days or weeks where I concentrated on some particular skill. But then I’d slack off. Over and over.

Still, I’d say that I had a reasonably successful agility career. And I try hard not to think, “If only I had worked harder at _________.”  That way madness lies.

But, whenever I hit a veil in any aspect of my life, I try to remind myself that working hard at getting through could help me to achieve the power of the Pattern, and gain satisfaction, joy, and energy to boot.

References:

That Addiction Thing

SUMMARY: Summary of my agility years

Facebook: Partially posted there Sept 27 ’19. Edited here.

I might have covered this in previous posts. Who knows?!

Another handler posted a “warning” to a new competitor in a Facebook agility group that she started in agility just for something fun to do with her dog—and 10 years later she’s an addict.

Hahahahaha!!! (I laugh with her, I’m sure…)

I know so many who are (or have been) in the same camp! In 1995 my life was full—work, house remodel, writing fiction, activities with spouse–and I was training hard with my dog (Remington) in Obedience, aiming for a championship, a goal since my childhood. But it wasn’t enough for him (brain or physically)—I had abandoned tracking after 16 weeks (Note to self: to look up–have I written about that before?**), and I’d taught him more tricks than any classes were offering, so I signed up for a 6-week agility class for what-the-heck after urging from one of my obedience instructors. And…

I loved it. The connection with my dog; learning so much more about training and behavior!; The physical & mental challenges for both of us; increased fitness; so many new friends around the country; so many places visited, and…

Dogs #2 and #1 (Jake and Remington, 2002)
Easy to be happy when you’ve had a good weekend, earned a championship, and have a Human Mom with treats.

After the first year, I started a database of every run.

After 19 years, 4 dogs, nearly 300 weekends* of competitions (and a gazillion classes, seminars, and practices), a full set of agility equipment, buying a house and vehicle to accommodate the activities, around 4700 runs*, multiple nationals competitions*, 160ish titles* (counting everything* at all levels including CH’s, Top Ten, Lifetime awards), thousands of ribbons* (yes, I brought them all home: doh!)—and, you know, we never talk about $$$ — only my body stopped me. And I’m far from being one of the most successful or addicted handlers.

What’s your story?

Dog #3 (Tika 2008): What it big deal is? I is fun just having.
Plus fun Steeplechase check is gots.

Dog #4 (Boost 2011) — Is good girl was do. Why Human Mom using is annoying face-machine?

ALL the ribbon things

* And, yes, the database can give me almost exact numbers and tiny details. If I want. To be. Obsessive. Which I never. Am. Never.

** Yes, I have mentioned tracking before.  Here  and a BRAND NEW POST for 1995!

Taking Tika From a Wild Young Thing to A Champion

SUMMARY: A bright memory, updated.

Posted on Facebook August 10, 2019.

As a younger dog, Tika was, at times, frustrating beyond belief. Independent and too dang smart, knowing what she could get away with when I didn’t know how to fix it. For those who might be tempted to give up hope with their own crazy, challenging, overwhelming dog:

7 years after Tika retired from agility, in the 22″ Performance category, she’s still #13 over all in Gamblers, #11 in Jumpers, #11 in Snooker, and #13 in Standard. For “all-breed” (mixed breed), she’s still #2 in Standard, #1 in Snooker, #1 in Jumpers, and #1 in Gamblers.

And I was able to hike off- and on-leash with her in so many places (well–not always perfect–but mostly).  (And so many other things, too: Tricks, visiting, being around any other dogs at any time…)

I’m proud of what we accomplished, and it paid off in spades in the immense joy I earned on and off the agility field with her.

Eine Kleine Agility Training

SUMMARY: New dog, new handler, new class, some pondering

Today Zorro and I started with the first session of a 4-week class of agility-for-fun, Jumps and Tunnels. I felt so clumsy with even basic things, and it occurs to me: It has been 14 years since I last started a new dog in agility. (Discounting a very few previous class sessions with Zorro.)

New agility dog in 1995, 1997, 2001, 2005… I sort of figured it would keep going on like that. But nooooo–  Even had I been healthier, Chip arrived in 2014, so a big gap there. And Zorro in 2015. It should be time for me to be thinking about a new agility dog because my current ones would be getting up there in age!

Funny how things work out.  Instead, today I fumbled over how to get a leashed dog over a jump, how to use treats to lure a dog to turn with me, and how to do anything without bending over and waking up my back or my knee.

Today’s lesson was nose touches to your hand (we had that down already), following your hand to circle with you as you move and turn into you as you turn (ditto), standing perpendicular to a jump and having your dog go over and back while tossing treats, then the same thing at an angle, then “around the world” from different angles. Then going through a very short tunnel, then a gradually longer tunnel, then jump-tunnel. Whooo!

I had to jam a treat in front of his nose as he blasted out of the tunnels to get him to not just keep going. Toy, even filled with treats, didn’t cut it.

Zorro still won’t play with toys anywhere but here at home, where he’s crazy about them. Have known this for 4 years. No good excuse for not having worked on it. Should do so. Because it’s a very fun feature to have in a dog.

BUT other than being super-excited to start with, he was really a Good Boy, willing to do All The Things for Zukes Minis and never running after any of the other dogs. And it all wore him out, which is really what I had in mind all along.

On Expectations

SUMMARY: Getting a dog who wasn’t as successful as a previous dog

Originally posted in a Facebook comment on June 19, 2019

A friend asked (and I shortened this):

I was just wondering if people had a similar experience. I had/have an amazing agility dog who was/is getting older so I got a new puppy. […] Unfortunately, my dreams that the pup [now 4 years old] and I would supersede the success of my first dog were unrealized and I let my disappointment rob dog and handler of the joy that should have been ours.

Has anyone else had an experience that the subsequent dog never met the greatness of the first dog? How did you handle the emotions?

Here’s my first perspective:

As someone who lost an amazing companion (Boost) to cancer when she was barely 10 and *forever* one superQ away from her ADCH–something that we all *try* to do and some are more successful than others: Just have fun with him! Live every day for joy, whether your agility goals are being met yet or not! How you’d hate yourself if your last agility training or trialing experience with the dog was being upset about not doing well on course, whether at yourself or at the dog. I can think of many runs and many days that I wish I could have a do-over for, not to fix the run, but to fix my attitude. Seriously. Lots of people appear to be successful at it, but Sarah George Johnson in particular leaps out at me at this moment–she whoops and hollers and rewards every run as if they’d just won the world championship.

Here’s my second perspective:

Remington, my first dog, was good… started out very good, deteriorated rapidly, and didn’t get better again until I was able to truly own that preceding perspective for him (I just kept running full out whether he was off course or not and whether or not the error was fixable, and just whooped it up at the end). So, he ended up a pretty good but not great dog. 

My 2nd dog, Jake, was very good to excellent. My third dog, Tika, was super duper awesome. 

So it wasn’t first-dog-itis when I got my 4th agility dog and we couldn’t be consistently successful for the world. I tried to embrace the first perspective above, but she was SO fast and SO smart, and I really did expect that she would be even better than my 3rd dog. Damn expectations. I could’ve practiced more on our weaknesses, for sure, but I didn’t always understand why things that worked fine in drills and practices fell apart on the course. 

I understood in many cases that it became my own level of stress–we started failing super-Qs that were gimmees for the skill set that we did have (e.g., “all I need to guarantee a super-Q today is for her to get to the #6 aframe–and she ALWAYS sends ahead to aframes and ALWAYS gets the contact” I mean, literally always… and then a refusal at the aframe. I KNEW how stressed I was by then and wasn’t good at choking it down.). 

But I wish every day that I had her back in my life (fuck cancer) and wouldn’t care about agility, I swear it. The irony for me was that, the more I cared about agility instead of simply loving running with my dog (which is why I started agility originally), the worse we did (both my 1st and 4th dogs). Jake and Tika dealt with it, but I was so seldom unhappy with them… I dunno which came first, success or happiness. 

So, your question, how did I handle these emotions? Answer: Badly. I try to atone for the times she knew I was unhappy (or people watching me on course knew I was on happy) by saying, See my first perspective above, please please please. Find a way to embrace it. I can’t promise that it will improve your agility. But you’ll be much happier and so will your dog.

40 years of agility: Two Crufts Videos

SUMMARY: The sport has changed so much.

Video of agility demo at Crufts, 1978.  Take note of the equipment, the speed and athleticism of the dogs (and handlers), how close the handlers are to their dogs, the complexity of the course, the difference in speed between the different dogs.

Video of agility final round at Crufts, 2017.  (the beginning includes a clear graphic video of the dog’s path through the course.  After that, I like the run starting at 21:15 as an example)
Compare and contrast: the equipment, the speed and athleticism of the dogs (and handlers), how close the handlers are to their dogs, the complexity of the course, the difference in speed between the different dogs.

And some context for you:

  • 1978: Dog agility originated as a fun demo sport at Crufts (or possibly much earlier; see the Wikipedia article).
  • 1980: First official agility sport rules definition, by The Kennel Club; first official competition at Crufts that year.
  • 1983: First agility-specific organization founded (Agility Club in the UK).
  • 1984: First agility-specific organization started in the U.S.
  • 1987: First time small dogs could compete at the national level, at Olympia (until then, it was all large/tall dogs).
  • 1987: First agility competition in the U.S.
  • “In 1988, almost no one had heard of dog agility in the United States, while meanwhile in England it had become an extremely popular sport, drawing hundreds of spectators.”
  • 1989: with TV exposure, agility started its boom in the U.S.
  • 1991: Power Paws Agility (where I’ve taken most of my training) was founded in San Jose, I believe the only training facility anywhere near the SF Bay Area at that time, so people came to weekly classes from as far as 2 hours away.
  • 1992: My agility club, The Bay Team, was founded. I believe at the time there was an dog breed club who held events in Fresno, but that’s about it.  BT held their first competition in 1993.
  • 1995: I started agility training.
  • 1996: January, my first competition, with Remington.
  • 2014: late in the year, my last competition, with Boost. (Maybe will be able to do again someday. Who knows.)
  • 2018: I still follow agility and occasionally do some backyard training and take classes.

History of Dog Sports–the Taj MuttHall view

SUMMARY: Are obedience, agility, and rally-o “traditional” dog sports?

A friend’s comment on one of my posts identifying those as traditional made me laugh out loud in bemused amusement.  Which are “traditional”? Which are “new”?   I suppose that this goes along with my own place in time, which begins in a global sense with “What were you doing when Kennedy was shot?” which I don’t think that even any of my younger sisters can answer.

Not that I’m saying that I’m old.  I’m still in my 20s, just the face is changing.

Sooooo here is my immediate reaction.

Agility and rally included in “traditional” dog sports!  Rally-O wasn’t even invented until about 4 years after I started agility, which in turn didn’t have a presence in the U.S. until only 7 or 8 years before I started.  So they’re both new in my world view.  (And both, incidentally, were introduced into the U.S. in a large way by the same man, Bud Kramer, whom, incidentally, I believe is in fact the inventor of rally-o because he was concerned about dog folks leaving obedience in droves for agility–and, incidentally about that, see my discussion on MBDCA below).

They’re new sports, as are dock jumping (about 2 years after I started agility), freestyle (only about 6 years before), weight pulling (about 10 years before), Treibball (among the baby dog sports, just 10 years old), of course barn hunt and nosework, and a whole slew of others.

In other words, to me, most dog sports are “new.”

To me, “old” sports include herding (forever), sled dog racing (forever), field trials (1866), disc dog (early 1970s), and lure coursing (around 1970) (which, incidentally, was founded by Lyle Gillette, a man for whom I did some work at his kennels* one summer as a kid–which, incidentally, I blogged about 10 years ago).

The rise of dog sport varieties has amazed me–when I got Amber, my first dog, nothing really existed in my world view except Obedience, and we couldn’t compete in that because it was only for purebreds. The Mixed Breed Dog Clubs of America, which provided  a place where non-AKC dogs could do conformation and obedience, was founded only at about the time that she came into my life, and I didn’t learn about it for another 15 years, when Remington arrived in my life.

The MBDCA lived for only about 30 years. Remington won tricks contests there our first couple of years.  Dog agility gave that club a nearly mortal wound–people like myself found the new sport to be more exhilarating than obedience–and AKC allowing all dogs to compete has pretty much killed it off.  They still exist, but the CA branch, which was thriving when I first got Remington, has gone extinct as near as I can tell.

SOoooooo there you go, a short history of new vs. old dog sports!

Wikipedia has a pretty good list of dog sports: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_dog_sports. –Which, incidentally, I created in 2004 and contributed to greatly — and, incidentally, I refer to that effort in the old blog post that I mention above, where I said that I was researching lure coursing: It was for Wikipedia articles. And here are the sports that I listed off the top of my head in that page before saving it for the first time:

By the time I was pretty much done with it a year later, it had added:

And that is PLENTY of “incidentally”s for today.

—-
The house and kennels, incidentally, went to the big house graveyard in the sky reserved for those cleared away by freeways (to which, incidentally, I also briefly refer in that previous blog post); CA State 85 was nothing more than a corridor cutting through the west side of the Santa Clara Valley for decades, and Gov. Jerry Brown in his first stint in office (incidentally, he’s also the current governor) declared that it would never be built, so it stayed empty with occasional bold folks building in it, believing his statements.  When we were kids, my friends and I used it as a shortcut from one neighborhood to another. Decades later, when I was in my 3rd purchased house, just a quarter mile from the right-of-way, plans were finally finalized to start building on it. Friends who had bought a lovely new home facing the open space that “would never be built” 20 years earlier suddenly found themselves facing a 6-lane freeway. The day before the freeway opened to traffic, they allowed pedestrians and bicyclists all along it for a last shortcut from one neighborhood to another.  The point being that Phydelma and Lyle Gillette’s home was in that right-of-way and is no more.  I still often think of them as I drive over the freeway overpass where, if you look to the right going south on Stelling, you can imagine the ghost of their spread.

Training and Agility Thoughts

SUMMARY: What to do, what to do.

Periodically I get these wild ideas, like, “I should actually train Chip some useful things,” or “I’d like to start teaching Chip to do agility,” or “How about if I get me and Boost back into shape to actually do agility ourselves,” or “I think I’ll sell everything I own including the house, retire, buy a camper van, and drive around the country for 20 years,” or “I think I’ll take a nap.”

[Oh crud–as I’m typing this, hearing some fireworks outside somewhere in the distance. Poor Chip is working hard on stressing out again.]

Anyway, I somehow found a reserve of enthusiasm and energy on New Year’s Day and worked on tugging with Chip. I want him to latch on and not let go until told to. I introduced him to the Milker Toy in the yard and he seemed to like it. (The rubber milking attachment from a milking machine. Softer rubber, flexible, easy to grip for them and me.) I’ve worked with him all along for what *I* want, which is that if I touch his face or body, he should just keep going. He’s having to overcome either a natural let-go reaction to that or else good training for his first 3 years of life in a family with a young boy.

I also dinked around a bit with getting him to go between two weave poles, but all that training (tugging and weave poles) made him stress out quickly.

So far to go–and then I was pooped and had to sit for a while, plus hard on my damaged back.

Still, for a good 15 minutes or so, we trained and played, trained and played.

But still not sure whether I’m going to do agility. This last week at the park, I thought I’d try jogging a bit to see what running felt like, and it scares me about putting that jarring and up-down compression on my spine. So dunno.

However, have committed to attend one agility trial in January and one in February, just to work and probably take photos. Not entering Boost. But one is out of town, so will take the dogs anyway.

We’ll see where this all leads in the new year.

There’s a Price To Pay for Going Over to the Dark Side

SUMMARY: If I knew then what I know now.

Note: Dog agility bloggers are teaming up once every few months to all post on a common theme on the same day. Today is our first combined Dog Agility Blogger Event Day (well–second or third, we actually had an Agility Blogger Action Day some time back), and the topic is “If I knew then what I know now.” See the list of other posters here; will be updated throughout the day.

So many people joke in the agility world about “going over to the dark side” after their first agility dog–or two, or three–do OK in agility (or not) but can’t beat those beasts who seem to have been designed for the sport: The beautiful, driven, smart, workaholic Border Collies.

I hadn’t intended to give in. I’ve always liked BCs and blue merles. I liked Boost’s mom, Tala, long before there was even a vague hint of future puppies. And I just happened to be starting to think about a new dog when Boost’s litter came along.

I agonized about the price. I paid $1000 for my rocket-driven girlie, and it was difficult for me to come up with that at the time and very difficult for me to justify when I was pretty sure that, sooner or later, I’d be able to find a rescue, shelter, or rehomed dog for a fraction of the price who’d do just fine. But, yes, I fell in love with her as soon as I broke down and went to spend some time with the puppies.

She has turned out to be a sweet and eager-to-please dog. She has all the drive, speed, and willingness to work that one could ever want from a dog. She was a natural on sheep when introduced to them; she has fabulous herding instinct and it’s clear, when she moves into a ring with critters, that herding was what she was born to do.

She also loves doing agility; it is her job, and she loves her job; it is her exercise, and she desperately needs the outlet for her physical and mental energy; and it is her time spent with me, which she also loves beyond pretty much everything except maybe herding (usually other dogs, since we don’t see many flocks o’ grazing animals in Silicon Valley).

Each of my three previous agility dogs got better and better, as I learned more about handling and about training. She was going to be my best yet.

But she isn’t.

As those who sometimes read my blog may know, we have a terrible time with refusals, runouts, and bars going down. Oh, and the recurring weave pole failures.

See, none of my previous three dogs ever had runout or refusal issues. (Definitions: A runout is when the dog runs past the plane of the next obstacle; a refusal is when the dog approaches the obstacle but then doesn’t take it, usually by turning back. They actually represent a continuum of behavior–hard to draw the line between where refusals end and runouts begin–and they are scored the same.)

Of my previous three dogs, only Tika had bar-knocking issues, but at its worst, it was never anything like Boost’s.

And weave poles–well, Remington was never fast in them, Jake was sometimes not perfect, but Tika has always had awesome weave poles (enters correctly and independently, fairly fast, and stays in until the end), so I figured, yeah!, I’ve figured out how to train them! But, apparently, not.

Yes, I’m getting to my point.

I’ll admit that I’m 7 years older than when I got Boost; I hadn’t yet had knee surgery when I got her; and I had competed in only 135 trials when Boost came home with me; I used to train in the yard almost every day and found it exciting and entertaining. Now, I have a crappy knee, crappy hip, additional years of aging that have been starting to show more and more, and another 120 trials under my belt, during most of which I have felt like a failure with Boost. And I have lost my enthusiasm for agility and for training.

How much of it is the been-there-done-that thing? And how much is the sense that I have blown my chance with my dog and don’t have a great future to look forward to with her in agility?

Here’s the thing: When I read back through my posts about Boost’s training and agility experiences in the first couple years of her life, it is all there: The bars, the refusals because my timing is bad or whatever, the inability to do serpentines that cause runouts, the weaves that are on-again, off-again, and even the stupid contact issues that are now plaguing me again: Coming off the side of the teeter instead of streaking to the end. It is all there, all of it.

And I worked on some of it, sometimes. I think that I fell into the trap of thinking that, with experience, things would get better. I mean, things got better with all my previous dogs as we each gained more experience.

In fact, I’m still falling into that trap, as in, “Maybe if I do a ton of CPE trials, where the courses are usually simpler and often smaller (in total distance) than USDAA courses, we’ll learn to run more smoothly together.” I can safely say, after 4 CPE trials in quick succession, that that is not happening.

The thing that I keep coming back to in understanding why we have problems with things that the other dogs didn’t is that she is, first and foremost by instinct and breeding, a herding dog. She stops and changes direction on a dime. She pays utter close attention to things that are moving (sheep, me), not things that are stationary (jumps). She wants to get to where the action is ASAP.

So, if I had known when she was a puppy that, at age seven, she’d have only 3 Jumpers Qs in USDAA after 90 tries, only one Super-Q after 80 tries, almost never any placement ribbons despite her speed even when we do manage to Q (mostly because of time-wasting bobbles on course), here’s what I would have done differently:

  • Recognized sooner that Boost is an entirely different kind of machine than my previous three agility dogs and approached her training and my own training in that light.
  • Gotten some coaching on a regular basis on my own fitness and running ability.
  • Made sure that we attended a lot of foundation training classes very early on.
  • Made the effort to rent the big agility field regularly to just let her run in huge loops, full speed, over agility obstacles and not work exclusively in my small yard and the tightly controlled confines of classes.
  • But most importantly, as soon as I realized that I had an issue–something that happened more than two or three times or that we never successfully managed–I’d have gotten help and followed the exercises and assignments closely and determinedly.

I don’t know whether it would have helped–I like to think that I have a clue about weave poles, and for the first three years or so I worked aggressively on weave training, and that was never completely fixed, either. But I think we’d have done Oh, so much better.

Now, it’s hard to get around the blasé feelings about training, the sense that it doesn’t matter and I’ll never fix the problems–Boost *is*, after all, already 7 and past her physical prime, just a fact.

It’s hard. I did NOT know then what I know now, and it is a challenge for me to let it go, let it go, let it go, and find a new enthusiasm.  It is both an advantage and disadvantage that I know now EVERYTHING that I know now. Because I think that, if I want to be successful, I actually have to forget a lot of what I know now, shed the emotional baggage and history of failure, so to speak, to be able to get a new lease on Boost’s agility life and training.

I’m trying to find within myself the energy and enthusiasm that I might have felt if, say, I’d have not gotten another dog, and then had suddenly found myself with Boost in my family, rehomed at age 7 with all of her training and foibles already in place. In other words, give myself a fresh perspective and permission to start over.

(The longer-term If I Knew Then question will be–would I have forsaken agility and taken up herding? But that’s something for the distant future.)

P.S. In the end, I am glad that I wrote this post, although I agonized for days about what to say and how to say it, and almost didn’t write it because of the pain I feel on this subject and not sure whether I could turn it into something positive–because the insights in the last two paragraphs didn’t come until I had written everything else. Let’s see whether I can do something with that interesting new perspective.