Doodle of the Day

Samurai front kick

A Love of Lines

Earlier in my life, I loved to ski, and eventually became a ski instructor. I remember in my ski training that we learned to look for the best lines and how to ski a good line as we schussed and carved our way down the slope.

At first, I couldn't quite grasp the concepts of "lines" or how to find them. But once I unraveled the concept, it changed the whole experience. Instead of skiing turn by turn, the descent became a long, flowing and rhythmic dance, at its best, at one with the mountain.

It was a discovery that had a profound effect on me, and which years later, influenced my style and preferences in agility handling.

Since early on in working with Taylor, I sought to break free from handling obstacle to obstacle and to find, as in skiing, the beauty of the line.

As it relates to agility, I feel the concept, in its essence, is to know that a line has no abruptness. It flows from one point to the next without interruption.

The feel of working with a line is like holding a pencil to paper and trying to move the pencil around the page without skipping or unevenness. No start. No end. Just a flowing balance of forward momentum and light, but engaged control.

Many times in agility, we see performances that suffer for lack of a knowledge of lines. How they function. How pressure, or lack of it, affects the shape and integrity of the line further down.

The simple way is to see a sequence. To discover the line that may be found within the sequence is the pure stuff of a swift and effortless run.

To push too hard is to set up for wide turns and over-corrections later. To hold back too much is to bring focus away from the line, resulting in lost momentum.

Handling lines surpasses thinking about placing one cross here and another one there. It goes beyond handling obstacle by obstacle, where the dog becomes lost to late commands and is never really given a workable idea of where to go.

Intrinsic to the line is a kind of zen. It's a move, in actuality, that goes beyond running a course of obstacles to an action that unites thought and purpose.

In skiing, when I first looked down uneven surface of the ski hill, it seemed impossible that a skier could decipher a line within that uneven terrain.

In agility, I thought the same thing early on, losing a nice little terrier to the crevasse of my unenlightenment.

With Taylor, though, I have now hold the good fortune of having found our way around the mountain. Mostly by dint of having a dog with intelligence and amazing perception.

We've now reached a point where our practice (the hulk of the A frame excluded) deals mainly in exploring and reveling in lines. The better we are at finding them, the more blissful and swift the going.

Straight, fast, removing the sense of "obstacle" from the way we think about agility obstacles. Finding the perfect line has become a personal quest of mine, and the wonder of it all is bottomless.

Like words written on paper, the secrets in every course can be found in its lines.

In our study of these lines, we inscribe a signature of who we are on the course. We discover the truth of our training and what we are made of as handlers.

AKC Agility Invitational Epic FAIL

How sad is this: The AKC invites the top five agility competitors from each breed out to its big 125th Birthday Bash at the 2009 AKC Eukanuba National Championship in Long Beach, CA, last week.

Unfortunately, the worst happened.

Rain fell. And fell. Until the makeshift tent city that housed the agility ring and crating area FAILed, producing a situation that became closer to a wartime refugee camp than a celebration of agility's finest.

So...AKC, does it always have to be just about the money? Can't you just once remember and respect the more enlightened reasons you were founded and the reason you exist? Can't you genuinely honor the achievements of all of your top dogs, not just the conformation ones?

If not, maybe it's time for a little truth in advertising:

We're more than just champion dogs. (Oops, fact is, we kinda are. We just luvs those conformation $$$!)

We're the dogs champion. (Unless it comes to agility dogs in flooded tents vs. inconveniencing the conformation folks...then, sorry! You're on your own.)

Bottom line:

This situation is deplorable and the AKC should be ashamed. Really, really ashamed. This situation was a travesty and a dishonorable way to treat AKC agility's best of the best.

What many of us have suspected about the place of agility within the AKC has now been proven unfortunately correct. The mask torn off, the damage done.

Will the AKC do the right thing and give the Agility Invitation competitors a sincere apology?

Call me jaded, but I'll believe it when I see it.

Seen enough? Want to give the AKC a piece of your mind?

Write to the AKC to demand that a public apology be given to all of the 2009 AKC Eukanuba Agility Invitational competitors. Send your email to AgilityAdv@akc.org.

A Secret Santa Mission

On the agenda tonight: get a fuzzy tug leash for Samurai. One that is scaled small, so it doesn't seem like his tiny 4-pound frame is dragged down with a line so heavy it could hold a battleship.

It's part of my plan to get a leash that I can (hopefully) drop over his unsuspecting little head while he's tugging on the leash (and before he can make a getaway).

So anyway, here's where I found some nice ones. Scaled for toy dogs. Soft, with enticing rabbit fur woven into matching tugs.

Heard about it from my Toy Fox Terrier performance list and they're made by Kollars by Kathryn.

On order: a black and brown one with Horse Parade ribbon for Samurai.

Classic black and brown...

...accented with Horse Parade ribbon.

I've ordered a pretty pink one for my friend's Papillon, Jayde (hope she's not reading this!).

Pink is pretty girl perfect.

So, the questions are...

1. Will they arrive in time for Christmas?

2. Will my plan for Samurai-catching work?

TBA

How much is too much?

One tough little guy. Too hard to let go.

I once had a wonderful little mixed breed dog. He was strong and brave and got me through one of the most difficult portions of my life. But he eventually grew older, and that stalwart and healthy little dog very suddenly, in the course of a few months, went from being a strong and healthy old dog, to a dog dying of a brain tumor.

Although mentally, I knew this was a dog, emotionally, I felt as if I was losing a child. There is an exceedingly profound way we sometimes connect to certain dogs. Often, we find there is no real way to cope with the emotions we feel when faced with their impending loss.

At the time we went through this, I felt as if this burden of grief was exacerbated by the need of certain members of the vet community to keep our dog alive. He was at the time, 13 years old. Whether healthy, or not, he probably had at most, a year or two left of his lifespan.

But, we were encouraged to drug this dog with steroids and phenobarbital...even to pursue brain surgery and courses of radiation. And during this time, neither the dog nor us slept due to his pain and seizures, which broke out in raging clusters in the middle of the night.

Even in the last hours of his life, we were presented with options -- highly expensive options -- on how we could prolong it. In the end, we spent over $10,000 and really succeeded only in extending the suffering of a wonderful dog.

Yes, we were the ultimate decision makers, but there was also a certain pressure to take additional and costly measures which, ultimately, only extended the life of, but did not heal or help our dog.

Today, I came across an article about a new book, On the Destiny of Species: by Means of Natural Selection, or Elimination of Unfavoured Races in the Struggle for Life, by British veterinarian, Matthew Watkinson.

While I have not read, nor necessarily endorse the book, I was struck by several of the comments described in a review of the book by the blog, Pawnation.

Watkinson is quoted:

"I have forgotten the name of the dog of course, and indeed a lot of other ancillary details, but I do know that its front leg had been amputated to remove an aggressive bone tumor, and I do know that I will never forget its screams. It wasn't even a young dog. It was an old dog with cancer and yet, despite being within touching distance of the end, it was lying in a soulless hospital kennel screaming in agony and recoiling in horror when anybody approached. It was horrible and no matter how hard I tried I couldn't justify its suffering. I must admit, I couldn't justify my own anger properly either.

I was quite sure the dog's suffering was entirely based on the emotional needs of its owners, and that it couldn't have suffered if it had been euthanized, but the full implications were beyond me. What if the dog had been younger for instance, would that have made the suffering acceptable? And if it had, what does 'younger' actually mean? Is it less than 8 years old? Or 9? Or 8½? And if it had been young enough to make the procedure acceptable, does a dog know whether the pain will stop, even if I do?"

It's an ethical quandary, both for pet owners and the veterinary community. Does the availability of options and the resources to support it justify the treatment? It's a difficult question to answer, especially when one is faced with making decisions on behalf of a beloved friend.

My only wish is that when the time comes for my own dogs, that I will have the strength to make the right decisions. Not just for myself and my own wish never to lose them, but for the sake of the lives that depend on me.

2 QQs Again

Pictured above: A representative shot of Taylor on the fly. This particular one hangs on the wall of our club.

GREATER LAFAYETTE KENNEL CLUB, Dec. 5 & 6 -- Taylor earned two double Qs again this trial. They count as his fourth and fifth double Qs toward his PAX2. One of Taylor's ancestors was nicknamed the "Precision Clockwork Mouse" for his work in obedience years ago, and Taylor showed the same consistent dependability in his runs this weekend.

The runs also counted as the seventh and eighth legs towards Taylor's Master's Jumpers Preferred 4 (MJP4) and his eighth and ninth legs toward his Master's Excellent Preferred 3 (MXP3) titles.

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.