Well, it's been two weeks since our last session. Not only was I out of town for a week, but The Boss was out of town for one session, as well. No big deal, right? Not entirely...
Kessel was pretty ramped up as soon as we walked in the door. The Boss told us to run through the tunnels and over the dogwalk a few times just to get re-acquainted with them. Since Kessel was being so sketchy, I opted to reward with her tug instead of with food. First, because I was low on treats (whoops!) and wanted to save food for introducing new behaviours. Kessel has been doing tunnels for months now, even before we started the class, so I have no problem putting her on the tug as a reward for that. It was actually working really well...until Kessel decided to put on a one-dog stampede. This time, she had the tug in her mouth and was barking non-stop.
Now, keep in mind I'm functioning on about 3 hours of sleep at this point. There was a big part of me that saw the cuteness in how delighted Kessel was with her decision to behave like a rogue. There wasn't any naughtiness involved, really. She was just in a good mood and that was her way of expressing it. The problem was that it wasn't playtime. It was time to work.
I hid in another room again, which worked. Still frustrating, but she didn't do it a second time, which I was thankful for.
We introduced them to the A-Frame, and Kessel and Gin got to play on the teeter with even more of a motion and more noise. Neither of them cared about it, at all, which was awesome! I seriously thought Kessel would have an issue with that obstacle, but she is still totally unperturbed by it.
The A-Frame is a lot easier for her than the dogwalk and teeter, in terms of contact. She's so long-legged that it's less work for her to just blow past the contact, or only keep one hind paw on it, on the narrow obstacles. The A-Frame is so huge that it's practically impossible for her to not have two paws on the thing. Hooray.
We ended with off-leash A-Frame to the curved tunnel, to the dogwalk. Pretty good, really. The Boss keeps telling me I'll love her drive in the future....hahaha...
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Don’t chase a Herding Breed, because it only makes things worse.
I’m breaking a one of my most serious household rules, as I type this post: the Malinois is on the bed, next to me.
I’ve never been a fan of having dogs on furniture. I don’t appreciate being covered in dog hair all of the time, and my non-canine oriented guests don’t enjoy sitting in a sea of blown coat. There is one thing I make an exception for, though, and that is a dog recovering from anesthesia.
Kessel went in for her OHE this morning, so now you know why she’s crashed out next to me, wrapped in a few fleece blankets. It was a pain in the ass to lift her 55 lb. self onto the bed, but it was worth it. Since she has no body fat, she was having trouble keeping warm, and I couldn’t handle looking at her curled up on the floor. So, onto the bed it was.
Her drug-induced demeanor is radically different from her undomesticated mindset at class, last night. Sure, it started out great. We blasted around the jump circle with only one bobble, and I was once again blown away by her speed. The horse person in me cringes at her delight in leaving out multiple strides, but I’m not sure if grids and placing poles work for dogs. Can’t really do transitions. Maybe modify some George Morris and drop her to a down a few strides off a fence? Worth thinking about, at least.
The horse person in me also appreciated how sensitive my dog is to body language. The minute I close it, she decreases the size of her circle and wants to cut in to me. Gee, that sounds familiar. Standing in the middle of that jump circle felt like the middle of a longe circle. Keep your leading arm and hand out as a directional cue for your dog? Oh, it’s a longe whip. Roger that.
Then we moved on to the curved tunnel, and we all got to do our very first front cross. When The Boss asked us to walk the pattern first, without our dogs, I instinctively morphed into my Stride Counting Walk. It felt good, though. Bit nostalgic. It certainly didn’t faze Kessel, and with a lifetime of being creative at leading idiot horses without getting trampled, the footwork just felt natural to me.
Our contact work was a little better than last week. Not awesome, but better. Doing the dogwalk on leash? Things started to get hairy. Kessel wants to attack it with her usual force, building momentum as she goes. Problem – the faster her legs move, the further her brain shrinks. Still, she didn’t fly off of it in the middle. So, we tried her off leash….
I could see the feral dog rising in her with each inch that took her closer to the end of the dogwalk. I expected her to zero in on Gin and initiate a crazy play session. But, no. She bounded off the ramp and just took the hell off. She ran up the Greyhound’s ass. She flew in the Rottie’s face. She body-slammed Gin on the way past, but then just kept going. I didn’t run after her, because experience has taught me that only fuels her fire. Still, I wanted to chuck a shoe at her head. I got within a few feet of her and she playbowed, shot a few tremendous and flippant barks at me, and wheeled around like a top-class Reining horse. Thankfully, J managed to snag a handful of her left flank, which gave me enough time to seize her.
She went on timeout in a crate, which I suspect she understood fully, because she flopped right down like some angel who knew she was being punished for her misdeed, no matter how glorious that misdeed was. I took her out and she played me like a sheep…her focus was fantastic, her eyes were trained on mine like nothing had ever happened. I felt encouraged.
We worked on the teeter, which also doesn’t seem to bother her whatsoever. She even got to walk down the entire thing, although the upper end was propped on the pause table. Nonetheless, she was a champ.
At the end of class, we finished with the curved tunnel and then a front cross to the dogwalk. Naturally, the tunnel and front cross were stupendous. She hit the dogwalk and I could see the steam building. It was practically billowing out of her ears. She flew off of it, pleased as punch, and went on another tour of the room - without me. The Boss told me to hide in a room, out of sight, and it did seem to work…after about a minute of tearing around, Kessel realized I was nowhere to be found, and she started to panic. It wasn’t the easiest thing to reward her for finding me, but I did it anyway.
The rest of the night went better…I’m sure going to miss her psychotic self when I go away for work, next week, but she’ll be staying with J and Gin, so I’m sure she’ll have the time of her life…
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Contacts - don't those go in your eyes?
So, we've only been at this Agility thing for a few weeks, now. For me, though, the desire to partake in this truly epic sport started two decades ago, when I was in elementary school. It's taken me 20 years to find the perfect partner, but it was worth the wait.
Enter Kessel - a 15-month-old Belgian Malinois that got unceremoniously dumped in Night Drop at the humane society when she was only 10 weeks old. Night Drop? A bank of empty kennels that the general public has access to after hours. Ideally, it's for well-meaning people to place stray animals into. In reality, the majority of animals shoved in those kennels are dogs and cats that people are tired of owning. Considering Kessel was inside one wearing a little pink collar and a black leash, I suspect she was dumped by a relatively sane person that honestly thought they had inherited Satan's spawn when they brought her home as an adorable black-and-tan bundle of joy.
No, really. She was a complete psychopath. I couldn't pet her until she was about 6 months old. Why? Because she couldn't handle the physical stimulation. A flat hand against her skin sent her into a wild, demonic rage, in which she started biting whatever was closest to her face, flailing into the air and then throwing herself onto the ground to imitate an Alligator Death Roll. If you sat on the ground, she would charge over and seize your hair, then attempt to scalp you, or try to remove your lips from your face. She wasn't mean-spirited, she was just a lot of dog.
However, she had one thing going for her: she took to obedience training like a champ. She loved to work, and I discovered I could teach her new behaviours and fade the lure out in one session. I was thrilled to have such a high-drive dog.
Fast forward to 2011, when I found out a co-worker (henceforth referred to as J) had acquired a rescued Malinois (henceforth referred to as Gin), as well. Naturally, we hit it off immediately, and it wasn't long until we decided to plunge into Agility together. J found a trainer (henceforth referred to as The Boss), who ironically owned Tervs, and we knew it was meant to be.
Which brings us to last night's class. On the whole, it was a good night. Kessel didn't go tearing across the room to assault her Gin with a loving, affectionate, full-body check. She didn't have a tantrum and decide to forget what assis or coucher meant. She flew through her first curved tunnel like an old pro, banking hard off the sides and exiting it faster than she entered. She handled her first sequence (vertical, table, vertical) with great focus and speed - while off-leash, with Gin nearby, and all sorts of other dogs all over the place.
Then we started to work on Contacts. I'm, of course, thinking "oh, this is going to be easy. Kessel will climb on anything she's told to."
Oh, no. How wrong I was.
The problem isn't in the climbing on the dogwalk or the teeter, the problem is hind-end proprioception. Well, that makes my dog sound like she has a neurological issue. She doesn't. She just has trouble understanding why it's so damn important to keep both hind feet on a narrow board. I think, to her, it's a waste of time better spent traveling at warp speed. I tried to explain it to her, but she just glared at me and leapt completely over the descending portion of the dogwalk in a flippant example of what she thinks this obstacle should be all about.
I tried to make her watch Gin do it, because Gin clearly comprehends that there will be a judge watching, and both of her adorable white-tipped rear paws need to be firmly placed against the glaring yellow contact zone so that, when she finishes her run, the judge will stand and salute her for being such a fine example of Malinois superiority.
But, we soldiered on. The Boss pointed out that it was my body language that was pushing Kessel's outside hind leg off the contact. I mopped some sweat off my forehead (did I mention how bloody hot it was? Kessel liked it, because it reminded her of her spawning ground [and by that, I mean Hell]) and tried my best to tailor my movements to cater to my dog's sensitive personal bubble. Progress was made. I think, once, I managed to mark and reward at the appropriate time. I was encouraged that she showed no fear of banging down the bottom of the teeter with her forepaws. I think that obstacle suits her obnoxious personality.
At the end of class, we got to let our dogs run the whole dogwalk (that was, of course, lowered to about 2'). I'm feeling confident about this, especially because the first few dogs were quite insecure about the entire thing. Gin is ahead of us, and happily bounces her away up, across, and down, demonstrating to all of us the proper technique for two-on/two-off contact zones. As Kessel is lunging against her collar in full-on idiot mode, I briefly think of how proud I am to be Gin's "Auntie" and hope that some of her awesomesauce will dribble onto my dog.
A quick word about Kessel - although she loves me and J, there are two people in her life that she goes completely bonkers for. We call it her Whore Mode. Both of these individuals are males, one is J's fiance, and one is one of my roommates. Kessel sincerely thinks these two men exist solely for her flirt with, rub her body against, and fawn over. We'll call them D and M, respectively.
Before Kessel got her shot at the dogwalk, D came in and took a chair against the back wall of the room. I frantically tried to keep Kessel engaged, and I thought I had her attention.
Alas, I did not.
We hit the base of the dogwalk with poise and confidence; she raced up it and got quite far ahead of me (I didn't expect her to attack a new obstacle with such intensity) and then caught sight of D. Halfway across the thing, Kessel launches off the dogwalk and books it across the room. You can imagine me, drenched in sweat and frustration, dejectedly trudging across the floor to physically remove her from D's lap.
We repeated the exercise several times, each time with Kessel reaching the dead centre of the dogwalk and deciding that "this shit is for the birds" and bailing off. I think she made it across one time, following a treat trail laid down by The Boss. Unfortunately, I can't say I don't understand where she's coming from. Kessel's world is one big ball of stimulation that she creates for herself. She makes everything more exciting that it has to be. Tunnels have to be attacked and slammed into to create the maximum amount of noise. The tire needs to be taken from two strides away, just for fun. The table has to be pounced onto with all four paws, just because. There isn't much she can do to make the dogwalk interesting, other than fly off of it.
Speaking of the Queen Bitch, she's got her muzzle shoved under my armpit in a rare moment of Cuddle Solicitation. I should go seize this fleeting chance for normal human-canine bonding....
Enter Kessel - a 15-month-old Belgian Malinois that got unceremoniously dumped in Night Drop at the humane society when she was only 10 weeks old. Night Drop? A bank of empty kennels that the general public has access to after hours. Ideally, it's for well-meaning people to place stray animals into. In reality, the majority of animals shoved in those kennels are dogs and cats that people are tired of owning. Considering Kessel was inside one wearing a little pink collar and a black leash, I suspect she was dumped by a relatively sane person that honestly thought they had inherited Satan's spawn when they brought her home as an adorable black-and-tan bundle of joy.
No, really. She was a complete psychopath. I couldn't pet her until she was about 6 months old. Why? Because she couldn't handle the physical stimulation. A flat hand against her skin sent her into a wild, demonic rage, in which she started biting whatever was closest to her face, flailing into the air and then throwing herself onto the ground to imitate an Alligator Death Roll. If you sat on the ground, she would charge over and seize your hair, then attempt to scalp you, or try to remove your lips from your face. She wasn't mean-spirited, she was just a lot of dog.
However, she had one thing going for her: she took to obedience training like a champ. She loved to work, and I discovered I could teach her new behaviours and fade the lure out in one session. I was thrilled to have such a high-drive dog.
Fast forward to 2011, when I found out a co-worker (henceforth referred to as J) had acquired a rescued Malinois (henceforth referred to as Gin), as well. Naturally, we hit it off immediately, and it wasn't long until we decided to plunge into Agility together. J found a trainer (henceforth referred to as The Boss), who ironically owned Tervs, and we knew it was meant to be.
Which brings us to last night's class. On the whole, it was a good night. Kessel didn't go tearing across the room to assault her Gin with a loving, affectionate, full-body check. She didn't have a tantrum and decide to forget what assis or coucher meant. She flew through her first curved tunnel like an old pro, banking hard off the sides and exiting it faster than she entered. She handled her first sequence (vertical, table, vertical) with great focus and speed - while off-leash, with Gin nearby, and all sorts of other dogs all over the place.
Then we started to work on Contacts. I'm, of course, thinking "oh, this is going to be easy. Kessel will climb on anything she's told to."
Oh, no. How wrong I was.
The problem isn't in the climbing on the dogwalk or the teeter, the problem is hind-end proprioception. Well, that makes my dog sound like she has a neurological issue. She doesn't. She just has trouble understanding why it's so damn important to keep both hind feet on a narrow board. I think, to her, it's a waste of time better spent traveling at warp speed. I tried to explain it to her, but she just glared at me and leapt completely over the descending portion of the dogwalk in a flippant example of what she thinks this obstacle should be all about.
I tried to make her watch Gin do it, because Gin clearly comprehends that there will be a judge watching, and both of her adorable white-tipped rear paws need to be firmly placed against the glaring yellow contact zone so that, when she finishes her run, the judge will stand and salute her for being such a fine example of Malinois superiority.
But, we soldiered on. The Boss pointed out that it was my body language that was pushing Kessel's outside hind leg off the contact. I mopped some sweat off my forehead (did I mention how bloody hot it was? Kessel liked it, because it reminded her of her spawning ground [and by that, I mean Hell]) and tried my best to tailor my movements to cater to my dog's sensitive personal bubble. Progress was made. I think, once, I managed to mark and reward at the appropriate time. I was encouraged that she showed no fear of banging down the bottom of the teeter with her forepaws. I think that obstacle suits her obnoxious personality.
At the end of class, we got to let our dogs run the whole dogwalk (that was, of course, lowered to about 2'). I'm feeling confident about this, especially because the first few dogs were quite insecure about the entire thing. Gin is ahead of us, and happily bounces her away up, across, and down, demonstrating to all of us the proper technique for two-on/two-off contact zones. As Kessel is lunging against her collar in full-on idiot mode, I briefly think of how proud I am to be Gin's "Auntie" and hope that some of her awesomesauce will dribble onto my dog.
A quick word about Kessel - although she loves me and J, there are two people in her life that she goes completely bonkers for. We call it her Whore Mode. Both of these individuals are males, one is J's fiance, and one is one of my roommates. Kessel sincerely thinks these two men exist solely for her flirt with, rub her body against, and fawn over. We'll call them D and M, respectively.
Before Kessel got her shot at the dogwalk, D came in and took a chair against the back wall of the room. I frantically tried to keep Kessel engaged, and I thought I had her attention.
Alas, I did not.
We hit the base of the dogwalk with poise and confidence; she raced up it and got quite far ahead of me (I didn't expect her to attack a new obstacle with such intensity) and then caught sight of D. Halfway across the thing, Kessel launches off the dogwalk and books it across the room. You can imagine me, drenched in sweat and frustration, dejectedly trudging across the floor to physically remove her from D's lap.
We repeated the exercise several times, each time with Kessel reaching the dead centre of the dogwalk and deciding that "this shit is for the birds" and bailing off. I think she made it across one time, following a treat trail laid down by The Boss. Unfortunately, I can't say I don't understand where she's coming from. Kessel's world is one big ball of stimulation that she creates for herself. She makes everything more exciting that it has to be. Tunnels have to be attacked and slammed into to create the maximum amount of noise. The tire needs to be taken from two strides away, just for fun. The table has to be pounced onto with all four paws, just because. There isn't much she can do to make the dogwalk interesting, other than fly off of it.
Speaking of the Queen Bitch, she's got her muzzle shoved under my armpit in a rare moment of Cuddle Solicitation. I should go seize this fleeting chance for normal human-canine bonding....
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