Action Day Rewind: Attitude

Because we're members of an obedience club, we are lucky subscribers to the clubs newsletter.  The first issue that we received was the last of the former editor's.  In the "letter from the editor" she referenced a previous article that I dug up and have re-read over and over and over.  And I believe that it shapes my agility attitude more than anything else.

The article was re-printed from a sheltie forum and written by a handler who has been doing agility since I was in elementary school with dogs of all different breeds.  She was writing about what she will do with her baby dogs in their first year of trailing.  Although I don't have permission to re-post, the points that resonated most with me was to have a big post-run party, base success outside of the Q, and if the dog seems stressed before a lead out, don't do it - even if it's advantageous to.  I'll add to that another point that was not precisely mentioned but the meat of it was there - if my dog makes a mistake I will not correct it.  When we moved into Excellent this became a little sigh of relief.  Because you need clean runs, I really really didn't correct a mistake.  In Open when you can have that one refusal or wrong course it's so much easier to just want to go back and salvage that Q... now when I walk the course I look for every potential off-course opportunity and come up with a "plan B" so that my dog won't know when we do something a little bit different than the numbers suggest.

Today we ran a JWW course.  There were about a half dozen pinwheels on the course - not the most motivating thing.  And the handling was along the lines of "over over front cross, over over front cross, over over tunnel weaves over over front cross over over big over."  Murray put his nose down during one of the many pinwheels which broke my attention and I didn't cue him properly into a pull into the correct side of the tunnel.  Rather than correcting it, we moved on and finished the course.  Yes, that creates "more faults" but does it really matter?  He finished fast and enthusiastic.  And when we have these little bobbles and a Q vanishes from the table we ultimately run better.  Because I whip out things that I'm afraid to try.  After the wrong course, I ran hard into the weaves and then did rears instead of fronts because I am always too afraid to do rears.  Guess what?  He drove ahead of me and took those jumps with speed.

Don't have any photos from that run, but here's Murr in his Halloween Costume (50 Shades of Gray) at the same trial.

Some of the most meaningful compliments I've gotten in the ring have been on NQ runs.  Today, one exhibitor said to me "what I love about watching you is that you always stay praise your dog and he doesn't know he made a mistake."  Another said (after a different NQ run a few weeks back) that "you and your dog look alike on the course - you both have a big smile on your face!"

We had NQ'd a good 4 times by this point of the course!  (Photo Credit: Clark Kranz)

The way I need my attitude to change - or perhaps it's my actions - is to take those risks and loosen up before we NQ, not just afterwards!  I need to take more risks, because really, what are the consequences?  So far when I have done the things I don't feel ballsy enough to do initially, Murray runs faster and does them correctly.

I need to stay 100% positive for my dog, though.  If he thinks he was bad (ooooohhhh so bad for gosh darn taking the wrong side of the tunnel!) then he'll shut down.  And shutting down may get us into trouble.  So I don't chance that.  And in his mind he has won in every round, and those are the wins that I care the most about.

Action Day Rewind: If I Knew Then What I Know Now

An early Show N Go photo (April 2013) of the little guy... he doesn't jump this way anymore, but I think it's the cutest.
(photo credit: Juanda Anderson)

My agility history spans less than a year and a half.  So I can't related with those who say "if only I knew my dog shouldn't have been jumping 30"" or "if only I knew that if I did a blind cross the earth wouldn't open up and swallow me alive."  I'm learning with my first dog, at a time when the sport is exploding, and at a time where mutts can compete in any agility venue they so choose (except for, perhaps, large mutts in TDAA).

What I do wish I knew then, and by then I mean May 2012 is this:

ALL DOGS ARE DIFFERENT.  AND LEARN DIFFERENTLY.

It's not a novel concept in the slightest.  When I was in school, there were many students that could function well in a traditional classroom environment.  And then there were others that couldn't.  And in college my roommate worked best at the library, others in the privacy of their own room, and me... in the communal dormitory lounge with the television airing Friends reruns in the background.  In senior year of college I completed my take-home Art History final exam (a result of the NYC Transit strikes stranding my professor in Queens) in J's dormitory lounge with some of his roommates getting drunk while watching those trippy Microsoft screen savers.  I got an A, but likely would not have performed as well if I were to have taken the exam in a library setting.  

Yet for an inexperienced dog owner, without the knowledge resources, it can be a difficult and frustrating experience to try to fit into a certain agility "mold" when you don't know what's out there.  And since many of us start in a group class setting, sometimes the training method of the closest/most recommended/what have you training facility may not be the best fit for you or your dog.  But you don't know until your dog shuts down or you come home in tears or every other dog is progressing while yours is chasing squirrels in the park.

Despite Murray's affinity for barking, he's a soft dog.  I didn't know what the term "soft dog" even meant when I started agility.  Heck, I didn't know that agility was about speed or even that there were full courses at first!  The place where I first started training seemed appealing because it was close and affordable and they said they really trained for agility.  The trainer had far more biddable dogs than Murray and not soft dogs in the slightest.  So training was more for these dogs that could redo something five times without having their feelings hurt.  My dog started doing things more cautiously, and therefore more slowly.  Or he'd shut down, or sniff, of bark at the unleashed dog who's walking around in the middle of the course.  But it took me a while to realize that this approach to training wasn't what was right for my dog, because I didn't know at first that there were so many different ways to train.

When I started working with my current trainer, I realized that there were more effective training methods for my dog.  If my dog made a mistake, it was likely my fault (especially if it was a blatant handling error!) so he should be rewarded.  Everything is 100% positive.  And we focused on drive over accuracy in many occasions.  As we continued to work with her, Murray got faster and more confident and less reactive in an agility setting.  Agility is totally his happy place.  When I started competing in earnest in May 2013, I saw the differences in handling systems, actions in the ring, and training between different exhibitors.  Some prefer to do blind crosses everywhere, some make their dogs drop after a contact, some yell, some don't use words, some party only after a Q, others are always exuberant, some will run with their dog if he breaks a start line stay, others will pull their dog from the course if the same were to happen.  Everyone has different goals and criteria and think of their dog in a different light.  So how they train and how they want their dog to learn is different.  But I just thought that my pokey reactive dog was "not fit for this" because I didn't know better.

One of the turning points for me was attending a show-n-go with advanced competitors and seeing what agility looked like and what I could aspire to.  So if I were to start all over again I would attend a trial or show n go and watch.  See which teams draw my eye (either because the dog is super fast or because they look like they're having fun or because someone says "watch this dog/handler").  Ask that exhibitor who they train with (just not right before they enter the ring!) - most will take a compliment well and volunteer plenty of information.  There's a high probability that someone who has yet to do any agility may not know what their goals are and be drawn to the flashiest dog there (who's on some crazy international team) but by attending a trial you can see what agility looks like and find out about local trainers.  Also, it's okay to move on if the class you start with isn't working for you, whether it be because of the environment, the trainer, or the handling system.

As we've gotten more entrenched in the agility world, I've not only gotten to understand which training methods are best for my dog but also which are the best for me.  And as we've dialed this in, agility has become more and more exciting for our team.

Action Day Rewind: Why Volunteer?

Sometimes my mind gets all over the place when I lack organization and structure.  So to compile my thoughts, I turned to the Dog Agility Blog Events Action Days to find some prompts.  Hence, Action Day Rewind.  The first is from 2011: Why Volunteer?

I have been volunteering at trials since the first one I entered.  I really enjoy volunteering at trials, for the following reasons:

1. The Murr is calmer (and can rest) if I am not sitting right by his crate.  If I'm right there, he will bark at those passing by.  But he will sleep or rest if I'm away.  So happy Murr = happy me = one more volunteer!

2. I am calmer if I'm working.  Because then I'm not anxiously sitting next to dozens of other exhibitors who are all pumping adrenaline through their bodies like woah and getting nervous or pacing.  Instead I'm doing something slightly more productive and can take my mind off the runs at hand.

3. I learn SO much in the ring.  Jump setting is the perfect place to observe (scribing is the worst, unless if you want to be well versed in judge's hand signals).  I can watch different handling styles, strategies in point games, and learn the course better just by working in the ring.  Things that I may not be ballsy enough to do on a run (reverse spin?) I get excited about when I see in action - especially when it is executed with great success.

4.  I watch YouTube videos of agility for fun at home, so why not get to see a variety of dogs get to run... in real life, and while getting some sun or breeze?

5.  I get to know other dogs and exhibitors by working in the ring.

6.  The vouchers help me justify entering trials (it's not that much money!)... and it's nice not having to worry about packing drinks because they'll quench the workers' thirst.

Yet many are wary to volunteer, and I totally understand that.  If your dog isn't well crate trained or has separation anxiety, they'll be barking their head off (or trying to escape) and that's more stressful for both you and the dog.  So being away from your dog is not beneficial.  Many are afraid of taking a job that they'll "mess up."  None of the jobs are rocket science, but write an extra "R" on the scribe sheet or confuse someone at the gate and you fear for your life.  If you always see the usual suspects in the ring, you may not feel like your needed - or wanted.  Or maybe you want the weekends to relax and not do manual labor, but rather just chill with your dog.  I think these are all valid concerns.  With that said, if you're standing outside the gate watching the class ahead of you and they're short a jump setter (and the judge is setting the jumps themselves), climb over the netting and jump set a class.  You may even get lunch for it!

I've recently started experiencing a sort of "volunteer burnout" despite not trialing for very long.  Because I have stayed through the end of the novice class at every gosh-darn trial, I would come home late every weekend.  So, just like everything else, it's about balancing.  In prioritizing where I will work, where I won't work, and where I will work just a teensy weensy bit, I have established some criteria:

1. If it's a club that I belong to, I will work and plan to spend the day.

2. If the group is appreciative of its volunteers, and puts them in jobs where they'd like to work, I will participate.

3. If the group compensates its workers well (the going rate here is ~$5/class) I will work through the end of Excellent, unless if they are *super* nice in which case I'll stay longer.

4. If I am more than an hour's drive away, I will leave after I'm done (see #2 and #3) so as to not have an even longer day.

Being nice and appreciative goes a long way.  Even at $5/class, that's less than most of us make at our day jobs, and this is a "fun day."  So I have to enjoy working, and I hate to say it but I don't want to be setting and resetting a chute at 3pm on a Sunday afternoon when I've written on my volunteer form that I am game for "anything except chute."  But thanking workers, whether it be a pat on the back or a worker raffle, putting them in jobs they want, and showing other forms of appreciation makes me want to come back and work more classes.

I would encourage others to volunteer in whatever capacity they deem appropriate, as if the club or show chair has to hire outside workers, the entry fees could ultimately increase.  So volunteer where you can, and if you're running the show thank your workers - you may wind up with some more eager beavers the next time around!

Defining Success

If there is one video of The Murr that I watch more than any other, it's this one.

In this run, Murray knocked the third jump on the course.  Which means that he lost any chance of qualifying in this run within seconds of getting off the start line.  However, if you asked me to list the most successful runs that we have had as a team, this one would definitely be on the list.  

Rewind three or four months from this video, to a weekend just after New Year 2013, and was one of his first trials ever.  Since a picture is worth a hundred words, and a video is worth a thousand, this is what our snooker run looked like:

Of his 10 runs that weekend, 2 or 3 looked like that.  A couple were okay, but at least half were painfully slow.  So slow that in his Level 1 standard, which is typically a super-flowy, simple, motivating course, he was so slow that we got whistled off the course for exceeding maximum course time.  I considered that trial to be "the Murray meltdown," and while at the time I wanted to burn every video and other evidence of the weekend, I am now glad that this happened, and that it happened so early in our agility career, when there was nothing on the line and no expectations.  

Essentially, Murray lacked confidence.  And therefore focus.  And therefore speed.  And as a result, he was becoming reactive in the ring.  So I decided that we wouldn't trial again until the Spring (when our club was having its annual CPE trial) and spend the winter working on building confidence.  We started taking Control Unleashed lessons and reading the book and playing Recallers games and all that good stuff.  And attending every damn show-n-go there was to make agility the. best. thing. ever.

And it was.  Murray was thriving at show-n-gos, squealing in delight as we'd turn off the freeway to go to Happy Dog events, driving into his crate as we played various recallers games, and suffering through two hour plus car rides for a control unleashed lesson.  After working at a USDAA trial at Happy Dog, I had plenty of vouchers in my pocket for entry fees and had the cockamemie idea to enter into one of their trials.  I figured that it would be a no-pressure re-entry into trialing: I didn't pay for the entry, would only enter one run, and it was at his "happy" place.  And best yet, the course times for USDAA are notoriously tight so going in knowing that there was not a chance in hell that we would Q also relieved some pressure.

And then he left the start line on fire.  When I heard the tick of the third jump any bit of pressure about the "possibility of Qing" was lifted and we ran to run.  And when he avoided the off-course tunnel and didn't notice the judge and ran so fast that I could barely get in a front cross where I wanted to I had the greatest feeling.  And there was cheering and Murray felt like an utter champion as we left the course to more praise than I thought I could ever dish out in a given moment.  And plenty of treats to follow the praise.

There were many Qs that followed this run, and my handling has gotten a tad bit sharper, and he's gotten faster.  But this was the run where I felt like there was a light at the end of the tunnel.  

How Did I Fall Into This Mess?

Two years ago, when many members of the agility community were out earning their ADCHs or MACHs or C-ATCHs or ATCHs or some other form of alphabet soup, I did not know that the sport of agility even existed.  Two and a half years ago, when breedings were being planned for the current wave of rising agility superstars, I had never even owned a dog.  And now here I am: crazy dog lady.  My free time is now spent looking at course maps online and thinking about where I would put in a front cross or a rear cross or whether I would hold a start line stay or which snooker opening sequence I would take.  That is, when I'm not working with The Murr.

So how did that happen?

When we decided that we wanted a dog, we decided that we wanted a dog that we could do therapy work with.  We fell in love with Murray through a Petfinder ad, met him at an adoption event and took him home for a home trial.  Within about ten minutes of leaving the adoption event, we knew he was our dog.

But a therapy dog he is not.  So we looked for other fun outlets.

I may be many things, but a therapy dog I am not.

After a few comments about "oh he would be good at agility" (mostly because he likes to jump a lot and climb on things... just like every other dog out there) we decided to look into dog agility.  It took us a while to get into a class but after about 8 months a local class opened and away we went.

We first started in a group class and that was fun.  We kept going to classes once a week, Murray being the one little dog and then many much larger dogs, climbing apparatus in a public park.  Then we found out that we could set up jumps nearby before our class and so we did that.  Then we found out about show-n-gos so we started going to those.  And before I knew it we were hooked.

The Murr in the Park

As I started going to the show-n-gos I started looking at handling.  Before then we'd do maybe a three or five obstacle sequence, all on one side, or maybe with a front cross thrown in there for good measure.  But because we were in a beginner class, and the class before ours was an advanced beginner class, I never got to see the final product.  I remember asking a slightly more experienced handler in my class about competitions.  How were they judged?  Did all dogs jump the same height?  Did speed matter?  I laugh now at just how little I knew!

At the show-n-gos I saw people walking through courses, thinking about angles, alternating by types of crosses and running fast dogs.  Then I started watching various agility events on You Tube and reading blogs and...

yeah, I went down that slippery slope head first!

Prologue: Newbie and The Murr

I never had a dog growing up.  My mom, as she now tells me, was taught by her mother to "be afraid of anything with four legs."  I remember several times in my childhood when my dad, a doctor with many a terminal patient, came home to let us know that Patient X had offered him a dog or puppy.  My brothers and I would get excited, but my mom shot down the idea instantaneously.  So we never had a dog.  We had birds for a few years.  Two lovebirds, also from one of my dad's patients, who spent their lives with us confined to a cage, where they would fornicate while we watched the weekly MTV Top Ten Countdown.   They weren't really pets to us; the closest we got to petting them was touching Yoshi's crooked beak while Hiroko hid in a corner.  Incidentally, when my parents got divorced a few years ago, my dad said that he would get a dog once the divorce was over, and last December he adopted a 60 pound Goldendoodle named Homer.

Which is to say that Murray (or The Murr, as we endearingly call him) is my first dog.

"Speak softly and carry a big stick." - Teddy Roosevelt
"Bark loudly and carry a big stick." - The Murr

We adopted him in March 2011 and have spent fewer than 10 days away from him since.  He is one hell of a first dog, too, and I am learning more from this little guy than I ever thought I could.

Like many other rescues, he came with some baggage and a story or two or twelve and that can easily define him.  But now we're working on not letting it define him; not letting his rescue status be used as an excuse for lunging on leash at a person who approaches.  So instead of some long sob story, because he rarely makes me sob, here are ten facts about the Murr.

• His call name, Murray, is that of the dog from Mad About You.  We wanted an "old Jewish man name" and J suggested Murray.  Two weeks later I realized he put a fast one on me.  That's what happens when, as he says, I "spent the 1990s living under a rock."
• His registered name is Paved With Good Intentions, which is a Mad About You episode title.  When we registered The Murr with AKC, the name "Murray" was taken and so we decided to give him a fancypants showdog name.  We looked at every Mad About You episode title and narrowed it down to "The Man Who Said Hello," "Puma in the Kitchen," and "Paved With Good Intentions."  If you know or meet Murray, you will agree that we chose correctly.
• He is registered with the AKC as an "All American/Mixed Breed Dog."  I have since been told by nearly a dozen people that he could have "ILP'd as a Havanese" and by one person that he could have "ILP'd as a Wirehaired Dachshund."  But he's a mutt in our eyes and the eyes of the AKC.  When people ask, though, we do say that we think he's a "Havaweenie" because portmanteau names make me laugh.
• We adopted The Murr when he was 1.5 years old.  We are his sixth house and he was an owner surrender.  Everything else that we know about his history is speculation. 
• He is 8.75" at the shoulders and at about 10.5 pounds.  His waistline is svelte but he has thunder thighs like no other.  Muscular, muscular thunder thighs.
• We have been feeding The Murr raw since summer 2012.  I am no longer grossed out by organs or tripe.
• His favorite agility "jackpot treat" is In-N-Out Burger's "Flying Dutchman."  I keep kosher.
• My brother thinks that The Murr looks like Steve Carrell.  I think that The Murr looks like my maternal grandfather.
• The Murr has one archnemesis, Homer.  Not my dad's dog, but a yorkie who lives around the corner from us.  He is frequently on the balcony of his townhouse when we are walking The Murr, and the two of them both spaz out at each other.
• The Murr makes makes us laugh no less than twice a day.  

I decided to blog to share our trials and tribulations as we participate in the world of agility.  Thanks for coming along for the ride.