Outside the Ring: When Sad Times Come

End of summer (and other things).

Sometimes, you try very hard and do all the right things. But life moves along by unseen design. And often, the things you want very much not to happen, do.

In late July, our old Toy Fox Terrier, Shaunie passed away. He was 17 years old and we'd been expecting it. 

But as much as you know the end of a life is coming, it doesn't make it any easier when it finally comes tottering and blinking to a close. 

Drifting off in a cloud of love

Every day since the time Shaun left this life -- drifting off in a cloud of love and with a peaceful smile of relief on his grizzled muzzle -- I've looked for him without meaning to.

Maybe it's just the slow decompression from the long period of caring for a blind, deaf and happily senile old dog.

But every day, at least once, a thought flashes through my mind. Maybe I think it's time for him to go out. And then, I remember...he's not there.

For days, Taylor would stand outside the room where his old friend used to sleep and stare and STARE at the door. It was almost like he was willing Shaun to turn up behind it.

When I would pass, he'd look up at me, asking. And I'd nudge the door open and show him. 

"Remember, buddy? He's gone." And Taylor's poor little shoulders would slump so dejectedly and his gaze would drop to the floor.

Shaun, in his glory days

One of the first performance titled Toy Fox Terriers

And I'm suddenly aware that I'm describing this scenario, probably as a way of skirting around some issues that are more important. Most significantly, the sharp health declines of my mom and dad.

I don't want to share details. I probably don't have to. So many of you have shared that experience.

But the point is, when they come, these larger issues of life swamp over us like tidal waves. Unrelenting, all-encompassing and completely undeniable.

In these crucial moments, it's the structure of each day that often keeps you going. 

It's the ladder you climb on -- sometimes up, sometimes down --  until you reach the other side.

Look to the horizon but keep 

what's close to your heart

The importance of agility and the comfort of routines.

So that's where the habits and structures of agility training fall into my life right now. 

It's the familiar. The comforting. It's a way of maintaining a sense of progress and motion when the larger things overwhelm.

And the "little things", like enjoying agility, can have that purpose. Beyond ribbons. Beyond titles. Beyond what we get wrapped up in and often think that it is.

Because there are certain times in life when it all comes down to just putting one foot in front of the other. Over and over again.

So while agility isn't the most important thing in my life right now, it's important to what makes my life fulfilling and truly worth living.

Tomorrow IS another day. 

Or at least we can hope.

Before you can make lemonade, you first gotta get a grasp on those lemons.

I don't mean to sound like I know what I'm doing here. Plenty of people could point to evidence to the contrary. But along the way, I'm learning. Bit by little bit. 

For what it's worth, I'll leave you with a few of nuggets of rainy day wisdom:

• Don't try to figure it all out -- Most likely, there isn't an answer. Or at least one any sane human could comprehend. Make peace with chaos. After all, even the world started out that way.
• Take time to enjoy the things that make life worthwhile -- When things get tough, it's easy to lose yourself in the things you have to do. Treat yourself as if you were your own best friend (you actually are) and schedule some time on your calendar to catch up.
• Appreciate friends and family -- The silver lining of trying times is that you find out what the people in your world are truly made of. Including, and maybe mostly, yourself. Yes, some people will disappoint. But others will amaze you. Forgive the first kind. For the second kind, open your heart, appreciate and hold close.
• Work hard -- Working hard has been the salvation of many a beleaguered situation. Just remember to keep it all in perspective.
• Chase some little goals -- You might not have the time or energy to take on something big at this moment. So pick something light. Maybe it's trying one of those fancy, new handling moves or teaching your dog a cute trick. Sure, it's not going to save the world. But it will probably bring a ray of joy that will restore your confidence and inspire your ability to DO.
• Help someone else -- Often the best way to ward off the shadows is to help a fellow human. Once again, it doesn't have to be something big. Maybe it's giving a sincere thank you, sharing a favorite training tip or buying a random person a cup of coffee. The warm feeling that results will be yours to keep all day.

This article is part of the Dog Agility Blog Action Day on the topic of Outside the Ring. Help yourself to lots of other great ideas by checking out the other articles on Dog Agility Blog Action Day.

First legs in Open JWW and Open Standard

Taking a well deserved rest.

Samurai looks a little worn out right now, but it's well deserved.

He had his first outing in Open agility this weekend and we're very proud of how he did.

His runs weren't clean, but he held his focus through all of his runs and even made his weave poles the first time through twice.

He got one Q in Jumpers and one in Standard. Most of all, I'm so pleased that he was able to maintain his composure the whole weekend.

We've been working very hard on reactive dog training and the work is starting to pay off.

If you are out there with a dog that you think might not make it in agility, don't give up hope. Believe in yourself and your dog. Be honest about where you need help and work hard to find the right answers.

Look for help to people who are creative thinkers, who have the ability to see through to the real issues and can help you break down what you need to do into a granular training process.

Once you have a plan, remember that working toward improvement doesn't simply mean working harder. For many dogs, especially those with "issues", it's often is better to work smarter.

As for Sam and I, we're not out of the woods, but maybe at least, we finding a start.

Seminar with Ketschker turn

Lots of examples to think about.

Basically, a Ketschker turn is defined as front cross followed by a blind. It is a stationery turn, so no motion is indicated at the point of the turn.

Here is some video taken at a European seminars of various teams and assorted breeds of dog executing the turn on a course that appears to have been designed to include lots of opportunities for Ketschkers.

What do you think? Is this something we should be teaching more of in the U.S? Are you seeing more opportunities for European style turns showing up in your local trials?

If you have video of yourself or others teaching these turns, I would love to see them. Email me or post the link in the comments section below. Thanks!

Working on the Ketchshker

We saw some of these turns on display at the 2011 AKC National Agility Championships this year, particularly in the ISC rounds. I was intrigued and wanted to see how difficult it might be to train. I've looked into it a bit and tonight did a few lead ins to it with Samurai. We haven't gotten quite to it yet, but started by working with some blind wraps this evening. Samurai picked this up turning to the right immediately. Turning to the left was more of a challenge, and he kept turning right at first.

We got that straightened out and once we caught onto it, he loved it! There's something about facing away from the dog rather than into them, as in a front cross, that speeds them up, or at least that was my initial experience.

It makes sense though when you think of turning into the dog as being a deceleration cue. Something to mull over and consider anyway. As with all "new" techniques, this one carries its share of risk and it demands a lot of clarity in cuing to the appropriate side.

I love the gracefulness of it and lack of herky-jerky-in-a-circle that you so often see handling transitions off of wraps and 180's. Gracefulness in agility is something I strive for, even though I am not very graceful as an individual. I do love movement that flows, and I believe my dogs appreciate that, too.

I hope to continue to work with this a bit just to learn and to see how it fits with our "handling kit."

Take a moment to view the video above to appreciate the beauty of the move in a competition context.

My 4" Take on Early Takeoff Syndrome (ETS)

Obviously happy. Obviously speedy. Undeniably early.

At eight inches, he might not have had a near as easy or successful time soaring over that jump at Nationals.

Especially early on, I tried teaching him to jump more rounded and to bounce through the tiny jump chute I had set up in my dining room through one full, long winter. He did learn to bounce through the jump chute. But that skill never really transferred well, if at all, to the more random jumping patterns of an actual agility course.

Still, the stutter stepping continued to be mixed liberally with early takeoffs. And it always got worse as Taylor got more tired or if I got out too far ahead of him (which was very easy to do when he was seriously stuttering at 8").

A few days ago, I picked up my new May '10 issue of Clean Run to find an article by Linda Mecklenburg that offers a reasonable and studied explanation for what I've sort of sensed about Taylor all along. It's entitled, "What is Early Takeoff Syndrome?".

The article explains that there definitely does seem to be a more complex issue behind a dog that "simply" tries to jump too early, or consistently misjudges takeoff.

With Taylor, I believe it has at least partly to do with a deficit of proprioception in his hindquarters. He has consistent trouble "sorting things out" to get up things like doggie steps.

I've always had the feeling, as Linda mentions, that trying to "train" through this issue was actually putting him more at risk for the long term, due to the "hard wired" nature of the issue and his less than perfect structure.

Running ahead of him, which in theory makes sense as a way of speeding him up, in actuality causes him to stutter step more.

Actually, the thing that helped him most was swimming in a little pool in our yard when we had a long hot summer two years ago.

The best thing I've found, and what has made us both happiest is to adjust my goals and to run the way the seems to help him the most. Hence the move to 4" and I always only run only slightly ahead of him.

I am very glad Linda took the time to write this article because I suspect there are other dogs, like my Taylor, who basically cannot help the way they jump. Contrary to most conventions, I believe also that training, especially "overtraining" and drilling, has minimal if any effect, and can often only apply more stress to a fragile physical/mental equation.

For me, sticking with my instincts on what was best for Taylor had it's own reward, even if it might be considered small in the larger scheme of things.

He earned second place in 4" jump height at the recent and first AKC Preferred National Agility Championships, and I couldn't be more thrilled.

I could have returned him to his breeder or swapped him for a swifter, more able jumping partner, but this little dog is such a joy to work with and is so smart and tries so hard, that I consider him a dog of a lifetime even with his "disability".

I hope this article gives more people the inspiration to understand and appreciate the dog they have, and to find a path to a place they both can enjoy, even if it is not necessarily the path you may have first envisioned.

Allow the dog to have its sense of worth and a standard it is able to accomplish and I feel that a lot of happiness result.

In the end, as much as I have learned, and as little as I still know, I still run and am fueled by the happiness I experience in running as one with a species that is not even my own.

Hopefully, this article will help reawaken some of that perspective within the sport as a whole, or at least one can hope.

To learn more from Linda Mecklenburg visit her blog at: www.awesomepaws.us.

YeeeHAAAWWW!!!

The same Samurai who thinks

the world looks best upside down.

Ok, so how do I describe how this whole thing first got started.

Well, ok, it began simply enough. Took off in my little car to take Sami to Agility 1 class. That was supposed to be it.

However, as it turned out, the Competition agility class that was to run right after Sam's class -- the very SAME Competition agility class that was to run the Lisa Potts course below -- with Lisa Potts even in attendance -- for the most part, did not show up.

And by showing up, I mean two people. Two very weak, but adorable people. So, I stay to help them set up. And being that we now only had, say, three very weak people now setting up, Lisa suggests that maybe we should turn the below standard course into a jumpers course.

A very, very fast jumpers course as it turns out, once you consider that all the contacts are now basically transformed into a straight on jumpin' runnin' flat out experience.

It looks great, and my adorable course building friends ask if I'd like to run this very fast course with them.

I think, "Welp, I'd like to, but I don't have dog."

Then it occurs to me, "Wait, yes I do! But it's a CRAZEEE dog."

It's Samurai.

Ignoring the horns of doom that begin playing in my head at this point, I nevertheless decide to take this flaming haired dog with no onboard steering out to run on this very fast course.

And discover that oh my gosh and gollies...he's actually working! Not running off to dark corners chasing imaginary zombies -- actually working! And running. FAST!

And along the way I also discover he can do straight up weave poles. Who knew!

I also discover that I can't get in front crosses, that Sam can sometimes do rear crosses and that my attempts at blind crosses and switches aren't really meaning a whole lot as we top out at about 90 miles an hour.

I find that we maybe know a little more than we thought, but that we also have a whole, darn lot more to learn.

But oh, man was I surprised. And oh, wow, did we have fun. Good boy, Sami!

YeeeeHAAAH!!!

Trainer Arrogance

Once you think you have it

all figured out, watch out.

A couple of weeks ago, a tragedy took place in an Orca tank, to a trainer of an animal the size of a minivan.

I'm sure she felt she knew her animal. From the many photos, it's clear she loved the whale, and that they felt a common bond. But what is always below the surface, and is nearly always too seldom consciously considered, is the true animal nature that is always shimmering just below the surface of the glossy phraseology so often applied to the training of animals.

It's a sort of thinking that claims us all, even those of us whose animals are more the size of a dust bunny.

We fall in love, not only with the animal, but with the mystique, the power, of training them.

For many of us, our thrill at the very idea of being able to communicate, and be responded to, by a non-human living creature is nothing short of a small miracle. And when those really magic moments happen -- the light goes on, the idea connects -- we feel the wonder of it deeply.

As we travel with them step-by-step through the classic process of Train-Teach-Proof, we become entranced by the animals we train.

So much so, we ultimately forget that they walk on four legs, not two. And even if they did walk on two, it would not be possible for them to be as in tune with our feelings and intentions as we so very dearly wish for them to be.

We lose sight of the fact, or maybe never understood, that beneath the veneer of socialization and training, the hard coding of DNA still play out.

We say, "He KNOWS how to weave. He ALWAYS makes his entries at home." When in fact what we have on our hands is simply an animal who is out of his familiar environment, blinded by new sensation and faced with several seconds of difficult concentration on an activity and a way of moving that is completely artificial to his nature.

Like even we humans, he defaults to the encoded responses to stress: fight, flee, freeze, appease. Which in the world of the agility ring plays out as missing the pole, zooming, visiting, sniffing, leaving the ring.

In our world, of course, we don't (usually) get eaten. But we often do, all too often, underestimate and misunderstand.

All of which means that by losing sight of the animal within, we loose opportunities to identify real solutions.

We get lost in rationales while missing the reality.

In a tank in Florida, a trainer soothingly stroked the snout of a whale she accurately sensed was stressed. What she missed, and that the whale picked up on, was the movement of a pony tail, and the release offered by giving in to a deeply rooted natural drive.

The misinterpretation, in this case, resulted in a tragic loss of human life.

However, in our own much smaller way, we make the same mistake each day. It is a very loving sort of arrogance based on thinking that we know more than we do.

Trouble looks like this

Samurai in the agility dojo.

He's the most adorable little dog. But Samurai is also what we affectionately like to call, a "special needs kid." He's very active and extremely independent. He's high spirited, loving and very, very wild.

As Dylan said, "try and catch the wind." Ask me, I've tried.

It's frustrating.

But an oddly strong little breeze also has a way of picking a person up and carrying them in a direction that can be entirely unexpected. I'm wondering where this one will go. Somewhere good? Or somewhere lost and far beyond the reach of assistance?

With Samurai, it could be either. One step at a time, we'll find out.