Clean Run Magazine - October 2007 - 25

In Cider By Bill Gates Addicted? I am not certain when I first considered the phrase “addicted to agility” as being applicable to myself. Because of the negative connotations I am reluctant to use the term “addiction.” Sure, there are socially acceptable addictions such as addiction to coffee, chocolate, or a favorite television show. But being classified as addicted to something serious means to have lost control: to act compulsively regardless of negative consequences. Addicts do things contrary to sound judgment and then seek support groups and 12-step programs for help. Being addicted—to anything—is something to avoid. Last weekend as I huddled under an E-Z UP with half a dozen other people watching rain pour down on the judge, competitors, and agility equipment, I simply had to consider the possibility, no matter how distasteful, that I could be, perhaps just slightly, addicted to agility. Then to make myself feel better about it I conjured the beginning of a novel. It was raining in the middle of nowhere—a hard rain—a hard rain that washes the common sense out of a good man. The good man now stands outside in the rain with his dog that does not care it is raining. Now, like the dog, the man does not care it October 07 | Clean Run is raining. He thinks only of the chance to play with his dog and the chance to take home a ribbon as proof to others of just how well he and his dog play together. The dog, a “mudder,” does not care for ribbons, only playing in the rain with his man. And that’s what I thought as the last dog in the jump height came to the start line. The rest of the addicts and I then emerged from the shelter to begin our walk-through—in the rain. Innocent Beginnings I suspect that most addictions have a similar beginning in that they start very innocently. Some years ago we took our Golden Retrievers, 10-year-old Duke and two-year-old Rox, to an event we now know as a show-n-go. There we saw people and their dogs doing agility. We had never considered agility because we had never heard about it. And if we had heard about it, it was on TV and something that was done in other places, but not in our town, so we surely thought it was nothing we would ever do and promptly forgot about it. But there we were with our dogs, shopping the vendors and watching other dogs in the show-n-go. Agility looked like fun. The people seemed happy and the dogs seemed happy. Maybe a couple classes wouldn’t be so bad, you know, for something to do. And as long as Rox was happy, it might be okay. As Judy and Rox innocently attended classes I tagged along with Duke. They played at agility while Duke and I wandered around enjoying the sights and smells. Thoughts of going to a competition were not entertained until an instructor singled out Rox as a dog ready to enter a show. “Us, are you kidding, enter a show, with other dogs, in front of other people?” What is second nature now, was quite overwhelming back then. We were not registered with any organizations. We were not even sure which venue we were training for—turns out it was NADAC. With the encouragement of the instructor, and one registration and one entry form later, Judy and Rox, with Duke and I in tow were off to our first trial in Asheville, North Carolina. Remember your first trial? Everyone has dogs in their hotel rooms and no one looks at you funny. You think you are getting to the trial site early but when you arrive, it is already wall-to-wall dog crates, collapsible chairs, and a dizzying array of blankets, tarps and water bowls. Although I was not showing at the time, the excitement and nervous energy were palpable. Like newcomers to a community, we hoped our neighbors would be nice. It seemed everyone else had friends to greet and places to be. We picked a spot and nested. While Judy went to check in, I lugged in the six separate sides of our metal crate, four corner poles, and crate tray (only pinched my fingers twice). Two chairs, two bags of stuff, one cooler, one crate pad, and one favorite toy later, we were set for the day. What I did not realize is that day would be nearly 12 hours long. I believe my comment over a late dinner was, “If all the trials are this long, we might not be doing very many.” You can put that in my stack of famous last words along with “I am sure the bull is in the other field.” No ribbons were won that day but Rox performed quite well given the new surroundings; she did not have the zoomies, and she did not soil the agility ring! We returned the second morning to the trial site with modified expectations for performance and hopeful the day might end a little earlier. A wonderful thing happened late that afternoon on her last run of the day. Rox was awarded a 4th place ribbon in a non-qualifying run. That little symbol of achievement lifted our spirits. After 25 © ANDRÉ JOLICOEUR

Clean Run Magazine - October 2007

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Clean Run Magazine - October 2007