To Seminar, or Not to Seminar, That is the Question

As a kid, I liked going to school.  I was the nerdy kid who took extra classes instead of study hall in high school, had even nerdier extra-curriculars in college, and still gets excited when there's conferences and symposiums to attend in my professional field.  And I enjoy training classes.  I'm in that category of people who get more of a rush training than trialing... and I get a pretty big rush trialing.   I'm also "that girl" who gets a little bit starstruck in life.  Which can be difficult when you live in big cities where a C-list celebrity may be sitting alongside you at a restaurant.   So, I would be naturally pre-disposed to wanting to attend seminars.  Because, (a) they're essentially classes on steroids and (b) there may be an agility star teaching them!  

Yet I find myself being incredibly selective about which seminars I will enroll in.

This started shortly after I began training in agility with Murray.  We were an incredibly novice team, but were already slightly addicted. Jon and I were going to my in-laws for Christmas break.  In years past, I would get a little stir-crazy in the days following Christmas.  So when I found out that a star-studded agility person (OMG they have DVDs!  and books!) was hosting a seminar, advertised as a novice class, and a mere hour from my in-laws I got excited.  I did my due diligence to make sure that it was really okay for a newbie like myself.  After I got that confirmation, several times over, I enrolled.  It was going to be the highlight of my Christmas break.

Murray completing an exercise at the awesome Nancy Gyes/Jim Basic Seminar
at Happy Dog (photo credit: Mia Grant)

Rather than feeling excited and motivated following the seminar, as I had going into it, I left feeling defeated - almost second guessing whether I should bother continuing in the sport.  

Why did I feel that way?

• I was not physically nor mentally prepared for the seminar.  Although it was billed as a novice/foundations class, in reality, most of the students in it were very experienced handlers with Masters-level dogs.  The instructor also had a relationship with almost every other student present, and so the seminar was taught to their level, leaving me in the dust, since several concepts went over my head. 

• We did not receive our "fair-share" of one-on-one instruction.  This seminar had 12 students over the course of two days, which is pretty standard.  The facility was large, so we were divided into smaller working groups for some drills.  My group was never visited by the instructor, so the instructor did not realize that I was struggling until partway through Day 2, when a group member finally called her over for help.  

• The instructor did not adjust any training to apply to the different skill levels present. When it became apparent that my dog was not able to do most of the exercises, rather than break down some of the exercises into more digestible portions, we instead were given a jump stanchion and a jump bump and I was instructed to just have my dog go back and forth over that jump bump for the remainder of the seminar.

• There was not a diverse group of dogs participating.  One nice thing about classes and seminars is when you have others that you can really learn from by observing.  I personally learn a lot by watching dogs that stride similarly to mine but are a little drivier.  I don't learn as much by watching a performance-bred border collie jumping 22".  I love watching them run, but I don't learn as much from that team as it will never resemble my own.  In this particular seminar, almost the entire class consisted of high drive border collies (it's never a good thing when someone actually asks you "is eight inches really a jump height?")

There are things that I would have done differently, in hindsight, to have made the most of an otherwise disappointing situation.  I could not have controlled the students, and had done my due diligence to ensure that he was okay for the class (even though he clearly was not!), so I don't feel guilty about being in the wrong class for our level at the time.  I do wish, however, that instead of feeling intimidated by being in the presence of some big-name agility person, that I had spoken up for myself on day one, identified my shortcomings, and insisted on a more appropriate lesson plan. While that may sound pushy, any seminar is an investment - in time and money - and if that wasn't being volunteered to me, I could have advocated for my dog and kept him happy by seeking out help, rather than relying on the two individuals who were randomly selected for my group.

Not at a seminar! Photo credit: Clark Kranz

Although this was my first seminar as an active participant, I have attended subsequent seminars with other instructors, and have had very positive experiences in those.  The sting from the first one, however, have made me very picky about the subsequent seminars I have chosen to enroll in.  Having spoken to other friends who have "less-than-flashy" dogs (and further confirmed by the responses to a recent post on Daisy Peel's Facebook page regarding seminars), I get the sense that I am not alone in struggling with enrolling in seminars.  Now, when considering enrolling in seminars, these are the questions I try to answer:

• Why does this seminar appeal to me? What is the seminar subject?  Does it address my needs? If the seminar was about Gamblers skills, and I only competed in AKC Standard and JWW, I might pass (Jim Basic - can you please come back and teach your gamblers course again?).  If it's about a brand new & improved handling SYSTEM, and I'm happy with mine, I will pass.  If it's about a more specific issue, one which I am looking to improve upon, then my interest has been piqued.  Just because the seminar exists, doesn't mean that I must attend it.  I will get more out of a seminar that's addressing one of my training gaps, or building on something that I'm looking to build on, than a catch-all foundations seminar for a totally different system or a very specific seminar on something that does not apply to my team.
• Who is teaching the seminar?  Does s/he have experience teaching/running dogs similar to mine?  What kind of style does s/he have?  Some instructors have brand names, while others are more locally or regionally known.  In Southern California, we can enroll in seminars instructed by our regular, local instructors, in addition to nationally or internationally renown coaches and competitors (not that the two are mutually exclusive - we have lots of talent in this area!)  Rather than getting jazzed by someone's competitive track record, I'm more interested to know about their system or style and who they instruct.  I usually ask my instructors, or other friends with dogs similar to mine.  If it sounds like the style may conflict with ours, then I'll pass. Likewise, if 99% of their students run dogs that are vastly different from mine, I'll pass. There's probably a reason why they aren't teaching medium-speed doxie mixes.
• Who is in my class?  Unlike a lesson, in a seminar you are generally observing more than you are working.  Are there going to be students in there who have the same issues that I have?  Are there going to be students who run dogs similar to mine?  I usually ask the seminar host about the other dogs enrolled to make sure that it's not 11 border collies and my guy.  Likewise, sometimes the "steady eddie" dogs are grouped with the "young and the restless" dogs.  In this case, I will ask the seminar host why they are being grouped together.  If there's a good reason (i.e. we are doing short sequences to keep the steadies motivated and the young'ns brains from exploding) I may still participate... but if there isn't a thoughtful reason for grouping these two dog types, I'll turn down the opportunity, to avoid the risk of my dog getting a disproportionate amount of time. 
• Am I ready for this class?  This is where I must be honest with myself.  Last year, there were two seminars being offered at one facility - "Almost Masters" and "High Drive Masters."  The seminar host did not know me nor my dog, albeit my instructor trains with her.  So when I expressed interest in the class, I was very honest about our abilities - that we "met the criteria" for the latter one (we had our Masters titles) but that we were not a "high drive" team.  I also tipped her off to my instructor.  She determined that the "Almost Masters" class was the better fit for us, and it was.  Rather than trying to get into the most advanced class, we were in the best class for our needs at the time, and we got a lot of value out of the instruction.  I believe that we would have struggled and not learned as much in the more advanced class.  I would rather be honest and not get an answer that I like - whether it means excluding myself from a seminar entirely, or being told to be in a class that I don't want to take - and not take the seminar, than take one and regret it because we were over- or under- prepared.
• Do I know anyone who has taken a seminar with this person before?  What is their structure?  Any other feedback?  Each instructor has a different "sweet spot."  Some are amazing teaching in a private lesson setting, but have difficulty keeping control of a larger group.  Some excel at shorter, half-day seminars while others are better spreading their instruction over two days.  Some may be best teaching via online courses.  I like to get opinions from friends about the structure of the seminars and whether they felt that it was conducive for learning before enrolling myself.  I also like to find out the seminar size (I'd rather do fewer hours with fewer students than a longer day with double the students) and format (instruction then everyone getting a turn?  small groups with instructor circulating?).

After establishing these questions to determine whether or not to enroll in a seminar, I have had several very positive seminar experiences.  Some of them are with our regular instructors, where we have the benefit of them knowing our team and teaching to our needs.  Some have been instructors who have traveled in, who have some household name for something in the agility world, and have bestowed on us some new skills, or at the very least, a new set of eyes.  I am grateful to have the opportunity to immerse myself in seminars with my amazing little teammate, and to come away with more fun homework.

Murray and the other small dog participants from Melissa Henning's wonderful handling seminar, also at Happy Dog.

I think that it is necessary for students to do their due diligence before trying to enroll in a seminar, so that they can get the maximum benefit and also focus on seminars that are most appropriate to their teams.  However, I also think that some responsibility falls on the instructors to help students get the most out of their experience.

So, seminar presenters, think about your students - before, during, and after - as individuals being pieced together.  You likely won't remember many of us months down the road - especially if we aren't local to you or don't work with you regularly.  But every student can both add value and gain value at a seminar.  Most people without the "flashy" dogs don't have delusions of grandeur - they love the game and want to improve their team.  Recognize that and appreciate that said students are willing to invest time and money to go from being a B to a B+ team - not everyone can be on the A team.  Likewise, appreciate the stellar dogs, or the "high potential" dogs.

Instructors: it's okay to be honest about your preferences.  If there's a particular sub-set of potential students that you really just don't like or feel comfortable working with - admit it!  If you only want to work with dogs of a certain size or speed, or ones that have particular sets of foundations, own up to it.  If you wind up showing some preference at a seminar, it will be noticeable (agility folks are perceptive!) and if you continuously return to the area, over time there will be a de facto student type attending your seminars... and then another type who does not talk so positively about you.  I think that most would prefer being told they're "not right" to participate in a particular seminar over showing up and feeling like they're the lesser one in the group.

Focus on giving each student their "fair-share" - if there are eight students in four hours, no one expects to have the exact. same. amount. of. time.  That would be silly.  But if one student is getting through the courses fairly clean, find the points of weakness and revisit those during their turn. Because that student didn't sign up just to show that they could be accurate - they came to learn. And be thoughtful of who you are grouping together, as - quite likely - the person with the flashy young pup isn't aspiring to have a medium-speed adult dog.

And, sometimes, things will not go according to plan.  You may have thought you had a Novice class, and then all these Masters students show up.  Tailor accordingly - stick with your original lesson plan, and add some new challenges for the dogs that are "above and beyond."  But don't just leave the one team who's "not like the other" hanging and feeling lost.

Most importantly - both instructor and students - enjoy yourselves!  Because agility is fun, and learning is fun.  And being in an agility seminar sure beats being in a statistics recitation or chemistry lab.

This post is part of the Dog Agility Blog Events Blog Event on Continuing Education.  For more posts on the subject, click here. 

Dogwalk Re-Training - ~4 weeks in

We've been working on the dogwalk for nearly 4 weeks now. A few observations.  Again, all of the videos are being posted here - Dogwalk Re-Train.

1. I'm going to do a 2on/2off.  I had initially planned to do running, but I don't know if I'll ever fully trust the criteria, and as a result may ultimately slow Murray down.  So I think 2on/2off may be faster for him, even though I can almost always beat him to the bottom of the dogwalk.

2. Training is fun!  It definitely helps getting me to not hit the snooze button multiple times, as I usually try to do.  And gets me excited to do something productive with the little man when I get home after a day of work.

3.  Don't piss off the neighbors.  Apparently they are not a big fan of early morning training sessions.  So we're working on foundations indoors in the morning, and ramp work in the evening.

4.  Love your dog, enjoy the process.  I love how hard The Murr tries, and he is more and more accepting of my imperfections.  Such a fun set of games we get to play with one another and I love watching his problem solving ability flourish and his enthusiasm grow.

5. Record keeping is great, but shouldn't get you down.  I thought I saw improvement and went with it.  Then I watched a week's worth of video to see that we were hovering around the 40% success rate for a week... followed by a spike to over 80%.  By keeping track of statistics without calculating them, I was able to stay motivated about our training without feeling discouraged by a low success rate.

You Know You're A Crazy Dog Lady When...

On Halloween, a mere few days into our new training regime, my in-laws came to our house for dinner. My husband's family has a Pizza Friday tradition - one that only resurrects itself while in the auspices of his parents.  If we go visit them, I know that we will be eating pizza come Friday.  Likewise, Jon insisted that we order pizza.

We moved only a few months ago, so our normal go-tos have shifted.  Since we live in a big city, the 3 mile move changes our restaurant radius quite staggeringly.  And pizza is one of those things that we have not found a replacement for (yet).  We don't have the same pizza options as my New York hometown, where we could sneeze and find a great slice, but we can also do better than Domino's.  

I knew that Blaze Pizza was nearby and passable, so I opted to go there.  That way everyone could get whatever permutation of pizza they wanted without having to satisfy another person's dietary restrictions or aversions.  

So why am I writing about getting pizza?

Because of this:

As we all sat around the table eating pizza, I looked at the two-piece box.  Or, more specifically, the lid.  It's low-lipped - perfect for my lowriding pup.  So while everyone else was chowing down, I was grabbing the lids to stockpile for our training exercises.

Yes, I believe this defines me as the crazy dog lady.  Apparently I'm not the only one who's repurposing food packaging for dog uses - I have since learned that El Pollo Loco tortilla bags are great for dog waste!

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There are other little details that I had to work out while figuring out our training regime.  Namely how to honestly assess where I was at, and what to feed The Murr.  Because I'm doing contact training for the first time, I was not confident in my eye.  So I needed to figure out when we are actually meeting criteria versus when I think we are - and also keep record.  Hello tripod.

Being able to tape our sessions is extremely helpful.  I can watch each session and then keep track of hits versus misses.  It also makes me accountable for sticking to my schedule.  Even better, a friend of mine is also planning to start a re-train, so she's watching the videos too to see the process.  I made a playlist of our training (here), and set my YouTube Capture to automatically load our daily videos into the training playlist.  

And then there's the food.  Murray is a mere 10 pounds, and eats about 4 ounces of food per day.  Plus, he eats a raw diet since his teeth get all yucky on kibble.  Given the number of repetitions necessary, I was concerned that we would have to go to really low value treats so as to not overfeed.  Then, while perusing my local pet store, I found this food - OC Raw Dog.

Their "meaty rox" are pretty small and (when frozen or semi-frozen) can break into smaller pieces.  Easy to use for a full training session with The Murr despite his low food intake.  I liked the ingredients in here, and it's made pretty close to here.  Yes, it's more expensive than my normal combination of chicken necks & Small Batch, but it's high value to the Murr and can be used as both a treat and a meal.  

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So that's where we're at.  We have the supplies, and I'm a crazy dog lady.  Undisputed.

Picking the Right Method for Human and Dog

I last left off with my decision to complete a re-train Murr's dogwalk, and had come to a good "trial stopping point" to commit to the training.  Next, was finding the right method for our team.   Way back before I started agility, I'm sure that the method you trained was the one that your instructor knew.  Now, with the interwebz, online courses, books, DVDs, and instructors who have become household names, there are more decisions.  I feel like if I'm committing to a training method I need to be on-board with it from day one.

The first major split in the decision tree is stopped versus running.  I don't think that a stopped contact is necessarily the slower of the two - a true 2on/2off is incredibly fast and drivey into that bottom position.  But I can usually get ahead of Murray, and had no compelling reason to switch from a "non-stopped dogwalk" to a stopped 2o/2o.  So running it is.

Next, has been deciding on the method of instruction.  There are plenty of big names in the agility world offering their contact training instruction - some of which can be conducted through online classrooms.  The "big 3" I've been made aware of are Silvia Trkman, Dawn Weaver, and Daisy Peel.  I quickly wrote off Silvia's because (a) my friend warned me about the amount of repetitions required and (b) after watching "Ready, Steady, Go" I had a hard time digesting her information in small fragments.  That seems to be the "catch" to me - I need little building blocks, but ones that are clear in direction; an amorphous approach was not going to cut it for me.  My instructor generally teaches Daisy's method, and walked me through the steps.  I have several friends who have developed great running dogwalks with their dogs through Daisy's method - and at Cynosport the best dogwalk I saw was from one of Daisy's students... I mean, it was literally jaw-dropping amazing.  However, the more I got to understand the process, the less I felt like it was the right approach for me.  I don't think my eye is trained enough to see the split-stride, and my personality is such that I am soft - I'm more likely to over-reward my dog and with something like the SS, I thought I'd wind up frustrated when I couldn't train my eye to see a black-and-white criterion.

The criteria for Dawn's method, on the other hand, seemed more black-and-white in the manner it was presented to me.  I enjoyed learning the A-frame through the "bounce box" method (Rachel Sanders) because there was a physical piece of criterion in play (dog goes into PVC box, dog comes out of PVC box).  Starting with foot targets, to me, seemed less abstract, and was therefore the better fit.

I'm not far along enough to know if this truly is the best method for Murray & me.  Likewise, I am doing this training locally, rather than directly from Dawn through her online classsroom, so it's more likely that I'm going to be training based on an application of Dawn's method (which I prefer, since my instructor knows me well and can therefore help adjust to our team).  Finally, it's very likely that various approaches would work for us, and that the other methods that I mentioned are just as effective - there are several exhibitors I know who have used any permutation of the above training methods with great success.  This method, when the various options were presented, just felt like the one that I could comprehend best and could most clearly communicate to my dog.

I started the re-train on October 25, and got a tri-pod to start recording our training sessions on October 29.  We are doing two short sessions (for breakfast & dinner) daily.  In my next post I'll give a Week 1 summary and provide some videos.

The Murr is Not Impressed

Hey, McKayla...

source: ABC15

The Murr is not impressed either.

After several years of living in crap apartments with literal slumlords and loud neighbors and no outdoor space we got our own little matchbox, and moved in last month.

The new sheruff in town.

It had everything on our not-so-extensive wish list.  There was only one thing I didn't like about it...

As a kid, I was envious of anyone with a swimming pool.  But as an old lady trapped in a not-yet-30 yr old's body adult it seemed like an awful expense with a lot of maintenance to boot.  And, when you live in a major city, having a pool in your backyard means that your pool IS your backyard.  So no A-frame for us.  

Our realtor (someone we met through agility) had walked us through many an open house - some with perfectly square (albeit still small lot) yards.  "Oh, this is where the teeter could go!" "You could fit a full set of weaves here."  But the realistic part of me knew that it's better to pick the house you love with the yard you're meh about over a house that needs work... or is too expensive... or in a not great location.  Because, heck, we could just get rid of the pool.

That is, until my husband jumped for in the first time and declared that there was no way in hell that we were going to dig this pool up because it was oh-so-wonderful.  Chance of future A-frame?  Shot.

When I told my agility friends that we bought our first house, they'd ask about the future agility yard, to which I responded that no, no yard because we have a pool.  And they all understand that where we live it's yard or pool - not both.  But instead of them joining in the "woe is me for not having an agility yard first-world-problems pity party" they'd exclaim "you have a pool?!?!"  To which I again would reiterate that yes, our backyard IS a pool.  

And then they'd pause.  And it would be...

"Can I bring my dog to swim in it?"

Half joking sometimes.  Not joking others.

Because, yeah, low-impact conditioning.  Sometimes better than having an A-frame out back.  

Except that The Murr is not that dog who thinks that dock diving is the best thing ever.  It took months and boatloads of treats for him to do this by his own wanting.

So, the mission of the past month has been to get The Murr to swim.  Because if we're not using our backyard for explicit agility training, let's have one well conditioned dog... and put this money pit pool to good use.  And no, no adorable videos of him with the look of determination in his eyes, because I'm too busy in the water with him, holding up a piece of hamburger for him to swim to.  Really high value treats are the only things worth swimming to.  But he's getting the hang of it.  

Our approach has generally been this: 

1. Get on our swimsuits and put some super-high-value treats into Tupperware.

2. Bring the Murr into the water with us (can't say he loves step 2).

3. Line ourselves up on the short sides of the pool.  One of us holds up treats, and the other one releases him.

4.  As my husband says, "the look of determination in his eyes is creeping me out."  

5.  Rinse and repeat for about a 5 minute session.  By the end of the time, Murray is excited.  With some restrained recall he is just as excited as when we do start line restraints - barking, motoring, actually having a good time.

And the little bugger can move - he's getting the hang of it.  He doesn't love swimming yet, but is liking the treats more than he's disliking swimming.  He probably just doesn't love it because he truly looks like a drowned sewer rat when wet. 

But maybe that's okay that he doesn't love it, because this is what he did on move-in day.

**This post is part of Dog Agility Blog Action Day.  To read other posts about what agility addicts are doing outside of the ring, click here.**

MACH Murray!

Introducing...

MACH Paved With Good Intentions!

Pictured here with some of his fan club!

When we decided to try to qualify for AKC Nationals, I realized that there was only about 100 MACH points difference between what he needed for Nationals and for a MACH.  Since he was picking up QQs fairly consistently, might as well finish off the title.  It wasn't until after we cleared the last bar, however, that I realized just how big his fan club was!  For a little sewer rat, the boy has lots of folks who love him.

In honor of his MACH I put together a video of us from his early days until now.  It's amazing to me watching his improvement over the course of the past year and a half - and especially the past several months. Good little bugger!

2015 Nationals Here We Come!

In my (completely) unbiased opinion, Murray is a fantastic little agility dog. But a Nationally competitive dog he is not, nor will he ever be. I know that sounds horrible coming from his #1 fan and teammate, but hear me out. The Murr has shaved off considerable time from his typical course runs - where he used to struggle to make course time in Masters JWW, he is now accruing double digit MACH points. I figured that we would be 40 QQs in before he'd have close to enough points for a MACH; he hit his 20th QQ a couple of weeks ago and now has just over 70 points to go. So he's definitely in the running for Most Improved Player, and he has astonished me and several of my agility pals with his drastic improvement in speed as of late. 

 But, he stands 8.75" at the withers while still weighing 10 pounds and being a doxie build. And, if anything, the boy could use a cheeseburger. The long corgis (whose owners note that papillons have it easier) weigh double or triple what he does, allowing them to dig better into the ground. Plus, they are big dogs on short legs with the herding drive that lends itself nicely to the sport. Plus, even their legs are (marginally) bigger than Murr's - most in the 8" height class are close to the 11" cutoff mark. On the other side, there are the papillons. Most of the paps also hover into the 10-11" height zone, with some of the smaller ladies around 9". And they are all legs, no body, and with only 5-6 pounds of weight can fly over the jumps with ease. When I first moved into AKC Excellent, I realized just how much shorter Murray was than the typical 8" dog. He jumps beautifully at 8" but he's a shrimp among the shrimps. 

Body type definitely has its limitations. Yes, you can say that Muggsy Bogues made a name for himself in the NBA at a paltry 5'3" in height. But part of his allure was how out of the norm it was for such a short player to be making it in the big leagues. Would he have become as prolific had he been 6'3"? Couple Murr's stature with having a relatively inexperienced handler, who (while improving herself) is still learning most handling for the first time, and you have a dog that will never be a Nationals finalist. I'm not making excuses, just stating the (practically) facts which I would be foolish to rebuke. 

That is okay! There are so many opportunities for us to compete and succeed outside of Nationals. And the door is open for us at Nationals (or Cynosport) based on the qualifying criteria. It's just our decision on whether or not we want to make the trip. We started competing in AKC halfway through the 2014 Nationals Qualifying Period, and honestly I didn't even know much about Nationals to start other than that some of the local competitors had done well in years past. The 2014 Nationals were in Harrisonburg, Pennsylvania, or 3,000+ miles away from home. Had this been the location for 2015 I would have likely not made a conscious effort to qualify, as the cost of traveling that far for one run per day (and a total of 4 runs) would not seem like a good use of time nor money for a dog like The Murr. Nationals experience - totally cool! Nationals experience for $1,000+?  Meh. 

However, we get a double-header coming our way. 2014 Cynosport is a manageable drive to the Bay Area, and 2015 AKC Nationals is pretty close too (Reno can either be an 8h drive or a 1.5h flight). So I decided that we would shoot to qualify for both - I can totally justify traveling a day's drive give-or-take to play with my dog while also watching some of the best of the best compete. 

To qualify for AKC Nationals, you need to complete the following criteria (to be completed between 12/1/2013 and 11/30/2014): 

- 4 double Qs 

- 20 master's legs (can be any combination of JWW or Standard) 

- 500 MACH points 

Since Murr is pretty consistent, we finished up the Q and QQ requirements by early 2014. However, it was the MACH points that were holding us back from a ticket to the Nationals. When mid-April rolled around, he had nearly 300 points to go. Yes, we were not even halfway through the qualifying period, but, dang - when I started doing the math it seemed like a lot of AKC trialing necessary to wrap up those points. Add USDAA plans to the calendar (and non-agility plans, because there are those too) and I started wondering whether I would need to give up the goal. Then we started anger running, which yielded higher-point Qs. Murray hit his 500th MACH point in the qualifying period on July 19, with a 24-point standard run - posting his fastest standard Q time ever and taking 2nd place in the 8" class.

                                      

So we're headed to Nationals, just as we'll be going to Cynosport in just a few short months (which is easier to justify as you get quite a few more runs out of it!) Given the proximity, I'm anticipating a large Southern California contingent, which makes for an even more exciting trip. I don't think we'll be trying for Tulsa 2016, because of the whole competitiveness/cost tradeoff but I'm really stoked that I'll get to experience Nationals with my Novice A dog next Spring!

Recalibrating Success

Success is the ability to go from one failure to another with no loss of enthusiasm.  - Winston Churchill

Several months ago I wrote about how I was defining success, and as Murray has become more confident in the ring, I've realized that I need to recalibrate what I consider to be a successful run.  Except this time, it's all on me.  Because The Murr is pretty gosh darn awesome these days.

The Murr and I participated in our first BIG agility trial in April.  USDAA Regionals was just a hop, skip, and hourlong drive away and we were pumped.  Despite the proximity, we were going to share a motel room with our friend and her dogs as a "test" for Cynosport (because having The Murr wreaking havoc on the inhabitants of a motel room for a week would surely dissolve even the best of friendships).  The whole week preceding, I couldn't wait.  PVP team shirts arrived and were gorgeous.  Everyone and their mother was going.  There was nothing to worry about!

And then we started off shaky.

Our first run was Team Jumpers.  It was perhaps the most technical course of the morning, and counted towards team rather than individual accolades.  We were starting with the little performance dogs, which meant Murray would be up before most.  As people from other rotation groups started gathering over by us, we realized that this was the course that everyone was sweating.

We started our run alright, but as Murray entered the weaves at 6, there was a handler tugging with her dog right alongside the fencing.  Like, right alongside the fencing.  Which caused Murray to exit the poles and go investigate, which caused me to worry that he'd start barking and possibly leave the ring.  Fortunately, I got him back and we restarted the weaves, finishing in a "well at least we got a time" time and with not a lot of confidence.  All day that first day, we had bobbles throughout, mostly due to indecisive handling - no Es, but nothing that I was particularly proud of.  And nothing that was doing justice to The Murr and the level of effort that he was exerting.

The next morning, I said to my roommate/friend that I had regretted entering Regionals PSJ (performance speed jumping).  Now, I love the PSJ class - the emphasis on speed, the A-frames (Murray loves his A-frames), and the small purse that we occasionally earn.  But Murray's PSJ Qs have generally come from less competitive trials - we had never gone head-to-head with any of the super-fast dogs, as most had earned their PSJ Qs early in the qualifying period and then refrained from entering the class.  Although I try not to focus on the Q, I wondered why I spent $30 on entry fees to run a course that we had no chance in hell of qualifying in, given the dogs who would be undoubtably setting the time.  I could have spent less than half of that fee to run in PII Standard where it would be my dog versus the SCT clock.  

As we walked the course, I knew that we (a) had no chance in hell of making time unless every fast dog Ed, (b) that every fast dog wouldn't E, as there were limited off-course opportunities, (c) had to take every risk imaginable and just go for it.  Not to Q, because we had no chance in hell, but to have a respectable showing.  We joke that The Murr likes to "anger run," meaning that when he's mad, he runs faster.  He gets mad by getting wet and by getting riled up.  In reality, the "anger running" is more a result of any stress energy that I have being diffused by this game of pissing him off, but anger running is catching on as a Murrism, so we'll leave it at that.  We went to the hose, wet him down, and then a couple of friends and I got him revved and MAD.  To the point that one of said friends remarked (in response to Murr's barks) "oh shoot, I'm leash running for him.  I don't feel safe now."

We went to the line, wet and mad and ready to go.  I did sends that I would never do at a trial (because ohmygodrefusalohmygod).  I never for a second doubted that he'd do anything but accelerate and take the obstacles in the lines that I ran towards.  We both left everything on the course.

Because some of the other 8" dogs were in other rotations, we had no idea where we stacked up, but it didn't matter.  Murray had one of his most fantastic runs ever - solid weaves, excellent commitment, and nice ground speed.  I had seen the super-fast dogs run and they all got through the course clean and were running even faster than I had seen them do in local trials.  So success on this run was the run, not the outcome.  Imagine my surprise when the results were posted and The Murr made it to the Finals.  He had the slowest of the qualifying times, but was only a few seconds behind dogs that usually run a good 15 seconds faster than us, with handlers that were running as aggressively as possible.

And as much as I said that earning a Q fell into the "no chance in hell" category, both my instructor and I knew that getting a Q in the Finals was REALLY REALLY REALLY in the "no chance in hell" category, as the criteria is cut from 25% of the top 3 score average to 15%.  But that was okay.  We were going to leave it out there and run!

I felt that our experience in PSJ at regionals was the utmost of success, Q or NQ (and ultimately NQ).  We were running like we train, taking risks I usually cop out of, and just going for it.  Because, yes, agility is a timed event - even if I forget that sometimes.

A few weeks later we ran in AKC under a judge that we were over time with last time we had run his JWW course.  Again, it was a "behind the eight ball" sort of day - the course had some obstacle discrimination, it was hot as heck, no tunnels (Murray's accelerator), and a very efficient small dog line wheeled.  So all we could do was "not wuss out of it" and go.  Wet?  Check.  Getting angry?  Check.  And again, a fast run for the little man.

I spoke to my instructor following Regionals and said "that was too much damn fun, I just need to do this and risk more failure."  She looked at me like "duh", though commented that there wouldn't necessarily be more "failure" as we know his capabilities.  My dog is trained to do backsides, and obstacle discrimination, and some distance.  But it's me holding him back from his full potential when I wuss out at a trial, playing things safe to salvage a Q.  By just going for it, and assuming that if I don't take every risk in the book that I won't be able to complete the task, agility is far more fun.  Recalibrating my measure of success, not for my dog, but for me as his teammate and handler, is the real way to improve our team and continue on this path with much enthusiasm.

**This post is part of the Dog Agility Bloggers Action Day.  Check out more posts here.**

A Year into Trialing

We're in May now, which means a year into really trialing.  And it's been a really fun year... especially on weekends when I remember to wear sunscreen.

I'd say we've had our ups and downs, but in reality, we've had our ups, and ups, and ups.  Yes, we had a minor teeter setback.  And some more sniffing.  But the vast majority of the time, Murray is feeling confident in the ring and enjoying the trialing atmosphere.  His behavior is improving as agility people are totes cool and want to be his friend.  Meaning lots of treats for being friendly!  And we have a pretty cool little dog class at most of the local trials, with lots of celebrations because those little dogs pick up awards like it's nobody's business.

We've been doing more USDAA this year, namely because The Murr got through the measuring process (happiest day ever!) and so that one little thing is no longer a thing.  We are never ever ever gonna be remeasured.  I really am digging USDAA, despite not having the "typical" USDAA dog.  The tighter course times, head-to-head competition, and laid back atmosphere are turning The Murr and I into a stronger team.  I have to go for it with him to succeed in this venue, and while he may never be able to catch up to those papillons, he'll keep trying to best his personal records.  Plus, there are a lot of trials at Happy Dog, which is perhaps his most favorite place on earth.

We got our PVP Q in March and have gotten to do two other PVP events since.  So. Much. Fun.  We're going to get to do Cynosport PVP with my favorite little cairn and his fantastic handler.  I love the intensity, risk/reward, and teamwork involved in PVP.  And making silly team names.

Team Short People at Happy Dog, March 2014.  Eve is a pretty darn cool corgi.

We are improving in AKC too, with Murray hitting his 50% MACH mark at the 1 year anniversary of his first AKC trial.  With a judging slate of two males (something I used to avoid), mulch filling the gopher holes (better to roll in, my dear), and a heat wave coming in, Murray was awesome.  I love that he tries so hard.

We have also dialed in our training.  Our local dog club was somehow able to recruit an absolutely incredible instructor to teach two handling classes on a weekday morning.  Normally, I have work then, but my boss has allowed me to come in late that one day to participate in the class.  So that saves a long drive.  Our other instructor is also incredible and has such an amazing eye for angles and motion and getting Murray to RUN.  Coupled with a workshop a month and I feel like we're really gelling as a team.

A year is a milestone.  And it's been two years now since we started in this crazy sport.  Another milestone. I can't believe my incredible little guy and how well he's been doing in conquering his fears, finding joy in an activity, and keeping me laughing throughout.

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.

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.