Satellite radio tells us everything we want to know about the dog show over the weekend and also marks our end of mellow 70’s pop hits in the car.


So in the words of mellow 1975 pop hits satellite radio stars America,

“Well I tried to make it Sunday but I got so damn depressed
That I set my sights on Monday and I got myself undressed”

Luckily, I did not get myself undressed at the dog show. I stayed fully clothed at all times. I may have exposed various amounts of plumber’s ass with some wardrobe malfunctions of too short shirt for too low shorts. But by the end of the day Sunday, both dogs and myself were totally unraveled to the point that I was ready to just go climb into the dumpster. I think it is fitting that I am the official garbage lady of the local dog shows.


Otterpop didn’t start out having a bad weekend. She won both Grand Prix and Steeplechase. She brought home a bunch of Q’s including a SuperQ and both Gambles. She had some great, fast startlines, but they wore thin and sad by the end of the weekend, and even though she was always revved up and barking and flying around before she goes in the ring, as the weekend wore on, she was kind of over the whole agility at a dog show thing. Otterpop is the dog who can never have enough turns when we practice, who can do everything on and on and on. She tells me so constantly. But she ended Sunday with a Pairs run that almost did have me climbing into the dumpster with all the garbage.

Nothing, nothing, nothing, makes me sadder than seeing a dog do agility slowly. And then to see MY dog doing agility slowly, breaks my heart not just into 2 but into 12. 12 jagged chunks that have hangnails and exposed roots. Coated in the sticky juice that settles in the bottoms of the trash bins.

She did have a couple of runs that involved the stickers. There were tiny, sharp burrs on one of the fields, and I pulled her out of 2 runs when she went 3 legged with a sticker foot. This also made me feel really bad, for trying to make my little dogs run around on sticker fields.


The burrs were a huge issue for Gustavo. He had a lot of issues, though, so I don’t know how much comes from things like weenie stickers in his weenie fur, and how much is just he is a big stress case. He did have a very nice Standard run, complete with a table. This was a big deal. And he had a lovely Steeplechase second round where I made a handling error that cost us an E. He had ups and downs all weekend, but overall, his runs eroded into one hot mess as the weekend progressed, with poles falling apart, startlines falling apart, and ending with, that heart breaking issue that I never thought Gustavo would have, running slowly. When this started, my heart broke in even more pieces. 27 jagged, sharp, double hangnail pieces, where I felt so bad for him.

As Don Mclean likes to remind us,
“Bye bye Miss American Pie”

I’m pretty sure this doesn’t have anything to do with our agility woes, actually. But how could I not throw it in here? At least I didn’t quote Bread.


Life is hard for Gustavo. He hit a bar in one class and FREAKED out. The stickers FREAKED him out. I pulled a gob off of his tummy after one run where it looked like he was running with toddly little back legs. Anytime something goes a little bit wrong in his little world, he is FREAKED out. I have no doubt that he was really trying. He was listening. He was playing with his toy. Being in charge of cleaning the bathrooms gave me much access to his favorite-cardboard toilet paper rolls. He was even playing with the frisbee, which is almost unheard of for him in public around so much distraction. But as the weekend went on, I do think he was trying with all his might, but it hurts his brain to try that hard and we start having train wrecks.

Oh Gustavo. Like our friend Gordon Lightfoot tells us,
“If you could read my mind love
What a tale my thoughts could tell”

I’m not going to go on. It ends badly. Gordon is crying. Laura is practically crying. Gustavo isn’t finding his leash and is dancing about underneath a chair near the score table.

So I have Gustavo, who I believe is trying very hard but just can’t hold it together at dog shows. And I have Otterpop, who just plain old STOPS trying for reasons not even Elton John knows.

Where does this leave me? I believe Stealers Wheel said it best with their very long moustaches and bellbottoms,
“Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right
Here I am
Stuck in the middle with you”


I know. It’s not the end of the world. But we are 6 months into our champion practicing and I think that honestly, even if we’re getting a little bit better, we still have this big competition problem. Which sort of makes the whole champion thing, a little bit, eh, not so useful. I sure do love my dogs, and we all sure do love agility. I know we need to get a lot better, but how I can be so off on my training and handling that I train my dogs to fall apart at shows is the piece I’m still not figuring out. I think today though, we are going to take a break from practicing and just go walk in the forest for a long, long time.

“I think it’s going to be a long long time
til touchdown brings me round again to find”

Elton John, you are so fired. Otterpop’s mind is going to be soothed elsewhere from now on.