Joie de Vivre

From Wikipedia:

Joie de vivre (from the French joie, "joy"; de, "of"; vivre, "to live, living"; "the joy of living") is a term sometimes imported into English to express a cheerful enjoyment of life; an exultation of spirit. Joie de vivre, as one scholar has written, can be a joy of conversation, joy of eating, joy of anything one might do… And joie de vivre may be seen as a joy of everything, a comprehensive joy, a philosophy of life, a Weltanschauung. Robert's Dictionnaire says joie is sentiment exaltant ressenti par toute la conscience, that is, involves one's whole being."

See also: Happiness, Carpe diem

All puppies have joie de vivre. They express such joy to be alive. Adult dogs tend to become more responsible as it were. They are still happy, but not with that bubbly effervescence that says "I'm so glad just to be here and be alive!" Or they have joie de vivre in some situations, like running in the park, but not all.

Some few lucky dogs retain that inexpressible lightness of spirit through their lives and pass it along to their owners. Zipper is one of those dogs, a dog whose tail is always vibrating, who is always happy, and who makes me laugh every day.

Does your dog have it?

Christmas in July

Last weekend was the Missouri Rhineland Club's agility show in Pacific, MO, and I entered Zipper in Novice. Zipper has his Novice titles, but he needs experience and seasoning. This was a brand new location for him and I wanted to see how he did.

The location, an indoor soccer arena, was, well, interesting. Two-thirds of the arena was taken up with a single ring. The back third was crating for us, and there was a bit of crating around the outside. Truly a tiny facility, much smaller than CCSC. The weird thing was, they only had lights on over the ring itself. The crating area was dark. As in, we all wished we'd brought flashlights dark. Apparently that was to help keep the arena cool, but along with the halogen vapor lights that left triple-shadows in the ring, the entire effect was that you just couldn't see worth a darn. I figured if Zipper did well here, we were in pretty good shape.

Being a single-ring trial, all of Jumpers was run first, from Excellent to Novice. They then brought in the contact equipment and switched the ring to Standard, and ran that Ex to Novice. Which meant a very long day.

In Jumpers, there was a C shaped tunnel to a black tire, and many dogs missed the tire, including Zipper. In the odd light it was just hard to see. Zipper also ducked a couple of other jumps but otherwise had a good run and a very nice last line. No Q of course, but he didn't seem fazed by the arena. In Standard, Zipper ran to the broad jump then screeched to a halt, leaned forward, sniffed it, and jumped back like it had a bag of snakes under it. I circled him and tried again. This time he came up to it, then dodged to the right and gave a little kicking jump as he went by. I thought, "forget it," and went on. The rest of the run was lovely. No Q, but that wasn't why I was there anyway.

I decided not to go back Sunday. I'd learned what I needed to on Saturday, and it had been after 5:30 before they were done with my ring. So I stayed home and was lazy Sunday. At about 7:30 Sunday night, I got a call from Patti. They hadn't left until after 5:30. So I was glad I hadn't come back. Then she said, "and we picked up your ribbon for you."

"What ribbon?"

"Your ribbon. From yesterday."

"Um, Patti, I didn't Q yesterday."

"Yes you did, you got first place!"

"No, I didn't."

"Well wait a minute, it's in the car, I'll go tell you what you won."

Turns out that I got a Q in Standard, even though Zipper never did the broad jump. Oops. The thing is, by this time it was too late to change it. What's even more weird is that I got the Q, but with 90 points, which means I was assessed two mistakes. The only thing he messed up was the broad jump. I mean, if I'm going to get a fake Q, it should be an accurate fake Q yes?

Oh well. Christmas in July. I'm sure at some point in the near future I'll be NQd on a run when I should have qualified. Such is the way of agility.

Sahara: Her Trainer's Tribute

I've been teaching people to train their dogs since 1985. During that time, hundreds of people and their dogs have touched my life. Some have gone on to become dear friends...others have had a more temporary presence, but a permanent affect.

At a recent orientation for new students, one new student asked a question about her dog. Frankly, I don't remember the question but I do remember the look on her face. Fear. I began to answer her question and then stopped. "Are you crying?", I asked her. "Not yet, but I'm getting ready to." I replied, "Oh, please don't cry! There isn't anything that you and I can't work on with your dog."

Vanette (yes, that's her real name), was enrolled in a class taught by someone else. I asked her if she would switch days in order to attend my class. She did. I gave her my cell and told her to call me when she reached the parking lot. I would come out to her car and help her in with her dog. I promised to take good care of her. All of this...and I didn't think to look at her enrollment form. I had no idea if this was a puppy, older dog or what primary breed of dog this was. I just knew that if things were to the point that a woman would cry in front of 50+ complete strangers...this nice lady needed help. That much, I did know.

At this point, I have no idea what to expect. I mean...no one has ever cried during orientation (that I've seen anyway)! What kind of horrible dog must this be? And, just as importantly, what have I done to myself?

The next week, Vanette phones me as promised and I walk to the parking lot to meet here. There, standing before me is this lovely, year-old female Anatolian Shepherd. A big breed, the Anatolian originates in Turkey and Asia Minor. They live with the shepherds and protect the flocks. The Anatolian Shepherd Dog is a fiercely loyal dog that demonstrates a possessive attitude towards family, property and livestock all the while being suspicious of strangers, reserved when in public. The Anatolian requires an owner who can be a strong, positive leader who consistently requires civilized socially-appropriate behavior.

This is not a pet. This is a true working dog. I was thrilled!! Vanette, the poor dear, was still a bit pale. I met Sahara, spoke to her for a few minutes, and then took her leash. We three, two women and a striking Anatolian, strode into the training arena.

The next 4 weeks witnessed an incredible transformation. Sahara and I trained Vanette. We taught her that Sahara wasn't scary. We taught Vanette about hard-wired breed characteristics of the Anatolian and how to respond. Sahara acknowledges me with a gentle, continuous wag of her tail. Sahara looks at me when I'm teaching her. And, the highest compliment bestowed by an Anatolian Shepherd: Sahara lets me give her hugs. Not just the casual "aw, you're a good dog" hug. I'm talking about the soulful connection that the few lucky trainers like me have with remarkable doggy students. I love that she stands oh-so-still with my arms wrapped around her enormously strong neck while I bury my face in her soft white fur. Then, I kiss her head where the little black patch of fur is on the top of her skull....sort of like an "until I see you again, be a good girl" kiss. You can tell...Sahara and Vanette quickly become not just my project...but a team that I look forward to seeing every Thursday.

The June 26 class was a really fun, unique class. I was ten minutes late and caught Vanette trying to cut out. "Aha!" I called out to her. "Where are you going?" Vanette, smiling, turned back. Sahara had already seen me, and likely noted that I'm carrying the training treats I always supply. All of the rings were occupied, so an impromptu agility lesson was held. Vanette and I taught Sahara the dog walk, the A-frame, teeter-totter, the tunnel, the ladder, buja board and to sit and perch on the table. She did it all! I stood back and watched Vanette and Sahara play on the agility equipment, carefully executing the obstacles. Vanette was cheering. Students were standing ringside to cheer. Sahara was smiling. I swear. That dog was smiling.

July 2, I arrive at dog school to train my dogs. One of our instructors stops me to say that Sahara died. It was if someone punched me in the stomach. I stood there stunned, crying, as Jenn delivered the news. "Vanette says that she'll still come to class this Thursday" Jenn informs me. "She'll still be here, but she wanted you to know."

Vanette has learned, as we all have, that this is the cycle of life. I am reminded of Irving Townsend, who so aptly penned:

"We who choose to surround ourselves with lives even more temporary than our own, live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached.Unable to accept its awful gaps, we still would live no other way.We cherish memory as the only certain immortality, never fully understanding the necessary plan."

Sahara was not my dog. Sahara loved her family, but I was not family. I was a trusted friend, allowed into her circle of trusted humans. My friend, Sahara the Anatolian Shepherd, is gone. Vanette remains. My job, my role as trainer-turned-friend is to support Vanette, to understand her loss, to listen. To let her cry. To cry with her.

Tonight, I'll meet Vanette at her vehicle, just as I have every other time. Probably, we'll stay out there for a while and soothe our souls, as we remember the dog who was responsible for our friendship.

I will miss Sahara.
My first Anatolian Shepherd.
What a thrill.
What an honor.
Thanks, Vanette, for sharing her with me.

~ Andrea

The Care and Feeding of an Agility Trial

Last weekend the Show Me Agility Club of Central MO had our AKC agility trial at CCSC. This was the fourth AKC agility trial that I've served as Trial Chair, which is another way to say "chief finger-pointer, worrier, obsessor, and over-organizer." But an AKC agility trial is a huge club-wide effort and I thought I'd give some insight on how much work goes into the final product of two (hopefully flawlessly run) days of agility.

Agility trials are often planned well over a year in advance. I line up a judge and secure the venue. This was our first time at CCSC. Previously we'd been at the Boone County Fairgrounds. There were a number of differences between the sites we needed to deal with. The Fairgrounds is on a dirt arena, where we can hammer down the obstacles that move easily like tunnels and weaves. Can't hammer into the rubber flooring at CCSC, so we needed to adapt. In this case, that meant that the equipment chair (Kathy) and I collaborated on ordering new sets of weave poles that would work better on the rubber surface. We also had a club work day and made sure all of our tunnel weights (sandbags) were nice and heavy. CCSC would also mean a different ring layout and different duties. We had to establish a grounds chairman (Gary R) to do things like monitor trash and help people park efficiently. As part of our contract, we had to clean the arena before and after the show, which meant a massive vacuuming effort. We vacuumed the entire building on Friday. That's 28,800 square feet of vacuuming. Some of our competitors, coming in early from all over the midwest, actually helped us. Agility people are great. We also needed to get a food vendor in (Jamaican Jerk Hut) as well as snacks for our large corps of volunteers who work the show in exchange for being fed. Patti organized that.

Our club hires a trial secretary because we don't have time to do that ourselves. She gets the Premium (the info people use to enter) done and also actually accepts and processes all the entries people send. She prints up armband numbers and running orders, sends out notices to people that they've been entered, and deals with early withdrawals. She prints up a sheet for each dog to be used on each day of the show so their score and time can be individually recorded. On the day of the trial she processes all of the results, entering the information from each dog's run (time and faults) into her computer. She generates a result sheet and labels which our awards person (Linda in this case) takes and puts on the ribbons for placements of first through fourth and also people who qualified but didn't place in the top four.

Our judge (Bonnie D from the Chicago area) stands in the arena all day both days and makes calls. She's designed the courses for each level (Novice, Open, Excellent) and each type of run (Standard, Jumpers with Weaves). She is the ultimate authority on the show site on things that go on inside the ring. I am the authority over all things that go on outside the ring.

When the trial rings are actually running it's a symphony of motion. Each dog and handler team comes out into the ring and to the start line just as the previous team is finishing. The timer, who runs our electronic-eye system, presses the "Go" button and the team starts. The judge watches the dog and handler and has a series of hand signals to indicate any faults she sees such as refusing an obstacle or jump, going over the wrong jump/obstacle, not putting a paw in the safety zone at the bottom of each obstacle, and/or dropping a bar. The scribe at the side of the ring is intently watching the judge for those hand signals and writes each error down (if any) on the scribe sheet for that dog. When the dog crosses the finish line the scribe flips her sheet over to the assistant, who writes down the time it took the dog to run and then hands it to a runner. Meanwhile the scribe is already doing the next dog, and the runner takes the sheet to the secretary to enter into the computer.

The organization of getting that ring running smoothly belongs to the ever important gate steward. The Gate has a listing of who is supposed to be running when, and exhibitors make sure they're in line so they're ready to step forward to the start. A good Gate steward can make a trial, a bad one can break it. Oh, and I can't forget the bar setters. Each ring has at least 3 people sitting inside the ring to put bars back on jumps in case a dog takes one down. So just for the ring, you have a gate steward, 3 ring crew, scribe, assistant scribe, timer, sheet runner and a leash runner to take each dog's leash from the startline to the finish (dogs must enter and exit the ring on leash).

But that's not all. After a class is finished, Kathy, our extremely capable chief course builder, steps into the ring to build the course for the next class. She also has a crew of people who help her. Kathy's job is to make sure each class is built to the judge's specifications, and those measurements are given to her on a map that tells her exactly where each jump or obstacle goes literally to the inch. So you see her in the ring with a measuring wheel and a 100' tape.

This year we had a few hiccups that were things out of our control, so it was even more nerve wracking than usual. However, on the weekend itself, everything went perfectly. The exhibitors were thrilled with the new location, not upset by having a delay in getting their ribbons and placements on Saturday, and very complimentary. In fact I think it's our first show where no one complained about a single thing all weekend. And agility people are really the best. We had a lot of volunteers who were non-club members. Best of all, we had fun. It was a weekend of teasing and laughter, of great runs and not-so-great ones and some that were a comedy of errors. But that's what agility is all about.

For our November trial, I'll turn the Trial Chair responsibilities over to Deb H. But I'll be back next April or May for our next spring trial. It's a huge amount of work for the whole club but somehow still fun.