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.