We Q'd!!!!!

Finally, after over 5 years of on-again-off-again training, I overcame my reservations and entered Sheila in an Agility trial. We just entered for 1 run, 1 day--CPE Level 2 (novice), July 19, 2008, in Turner, OR.


I was nervous, but not as bad as I can get sometimes. I kept it pretty cool, if I do say so myself. My strategy was to keep Sheila in the car so that she wouldn't get too stressed out. We had to wait for about 4 hours before we finally got to go, so it was good that I'd made that plan. By the time it was our turn, she was still pretty fresh and engaged. (When she gets too stressed out, she just disconnects completely.)


I won't say it was perfect--there was some sniffing before the dog walk, and again after the 2nd jump, and again before the teeter. We had to restart the weaves once. At one point I said "here" when I meant to say "go", so we almost got tangled up.


But the rest of the run was pretty...it felt good. I gestured, she went to the right place and did the right thing. I turned, and she moved with me. And most of the time she was smiling and enjoying herself (nevermind the sniffing!)


A professional photographer, Joe Camp, was there. He took this photo.


This might be...well, pretty much for sure was, Sheila's first and last Agility trial. We took an Agility class to get ready for it, but even though I kept her jump heights low (8 inches), and even though we kept training light and rep's few, it seemed to take it's toll. She's nine years old now, and she has spondylosis and probably arthritis in her shoulders, too. For the latter half of July, and now most of August, she's been pretty uncomfortable...waking up in the night, panting, pacing, can't get comfortable. Slowly she's improving, but I can't conscience pushing her any further.


It's all just play now...whatever she wants to do.

Sheila Calculates Probability

Sheila, our 8 year old 99% Australian Shepherd, sits in the living room with her eyes fixed on me; however, her ears are at high attention, monitoring every sound that comes from the kitchen. She is calculating the probability of getting a treat. I can practically hear the numbers crunching through her head...I can see the stat's running with every twitch of her ears and every roll of her eyes.

She whines. You can see her dilemna: I'm sitting on the couch, eating yogurt, while DH is in the kitchen fixing a snack of his own. Our three other dogs, who never get tidbits from me while I'm on the couch and who therefore know that I'm a lost cause, are busy tracking DH's every move. Sheila, on the other hand, does occasionally get to lick my yogurt bowl clean, under very special circumstances...when no other dogs are around, and when I'm feeling particularly soft-hearted. Because she is my special girl, and I like her to know that.

But I'm not a sure thing, and she knows that, too. Likewise, she knows that DH is a sure thing. Has that man ever left the kitchen without first dispensing treats to each dog? I think not. If that were to happen, we'd probably have a riot on our hands. He's a given, a 100% sure score, so Sheila isn't just calculating the probability of getting a single treat--she's figuring whether or not she can end up with treats from both me and DH. If she can just hold out long enough, she knows I'm liable to crack.

Her eyes are open so wide that I can see white all around her irises...that's a rather intense look for a dog. It makes me laugh. It makes me love her all the more. I lower the bowl to snout level, and she makes very short work of it before dashing into the kitchen.

I swear, if she could play craps like she plays me, this dog could take it to Vegas.