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....
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