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    It's 6:45 a.m. on Saturday morning, and Spur and I are on the road to Vacaville.  Our destination is the oversize metal-sided building that Cessie Banfield has set up for dog training on the property behind her home in this rural neighborhood.

    Once a month her business, Sky's the Limit, hosts an opportunity for handlers to practice under some very knowledgeable eyes.  For $25, we each get a chance to do two run-throughs, with guidance and feedback from Cessie and Stephanie Gomez, a certified AKC Judge.  Stephanie is well-known for judging her classes with a sharp eye and an absolute focus on fairness.  Her suggestions are invaluable. 

    This gathering is more serious than Alan Miller's energetic classes or the typical fun match.  Almost everyone here is getting ready to show or actively campaigning.  Among this morning's student participants is Judie Howard, one of Northern California's most accomplished dog trainers.  Judie has put the highest titles on an impressive and unlikely spectrum of breeds.  If she is here, I know I am definitely in the right place.

    The atmosphere is friendly, supportive, but reality-based.  Cessie and Stephanie don't hesitate to point out the issue areas, and other handlers don't hesitate to chime in.
    It's clear that Spur and I have a lot of problems. 

    In this tight venue, with other dogs distracting, Spur does not want to do his goes or signals.  Stephanie coaches me through some steps to help him.

    Many of the problems are mine.  I need to "glide" in and out of the fast and slow on heeling.  I need to practice right turns, as Spur tends to lag on those moves.  My signals are too fast.  My palm should be perpendicular to the ground, so Spur can see the signal more clearly.

    Spur takes a wrong jump, and I stand in a coma, rather than breaking him off before the error is reinforced.  I walk away from him on the stand for exam, and as I turn I take a few steps backwards.  We have a sloppy turn when we rotate for the glove exercise.

    All these mistakes are points off or failures, or omissions that are likely to lead to failure.  The problems are mine as often as Spur's.  We are both very green.

    Stephanie advises us to get to the show grounds extra early, to get Spur comfortable in the environment.  She urges me to wear an outfit with contrasting sleeves - perhaps a vest - so my signals can be clearly seen. 

    On this gray and chilly morning my spirits are also feeling a little dampened.  I have lots of good advice and hopes.  Spur was terrific on articles, the moving stand, and gloves were OK.  But the goes and signals are clearly weak. 

    Everyone who saw us today will be rightfully surprised if we pass.  I will be surprised.
    But hope springs eternal, it's what keeps us going.  We have ten days to go.

    That's time enough for a lot to happen. 
   

    On Monday nights, if I can sneak away from work early enough to make Alan Miller's lively advanced dog training class, you can bet that Spur and I will be there.  Alan offers beginning, intermediate and advanced dog training classes at a couple of locations in the Sacramento area, and they are more than worth the price of admission. 

    Alan's own interest centers on larger breeds used for protection and safety, and his personal focus is on competition and training in those specialty areas.  But the same man who is a pro at teaching Rottweilers and his gorgeous new Belgian Malinois to bring down evildoers is also expert at shepherding a group of ordinary citizens through a training session that makes us all feel we are really getting somewhere.

    Alan specializes in helping people whose dogs have problems with aggression, but he is every bit as expert at getting a normal group of folks to have a joyous hour teaching their dogs to retrieve, heel, respond to signals, and get along together.

    Two things about Alan are especially terrific.  First is the fact that he orchestrates every one of his hour-long class sessions for maximum activity and maximum results.  There is no wasted time.  Every moment has been choreographed and planned.  From  heeling to retrieving, from scent discrimination exercises to jumps and moving stands, Alan has thought it all out in advance.

    To the observer, the result of all this movement and action is, in fact, a kind of guided chaos.  It is exactly what Spur and I are seeking these days.

    Which brings me to the second thing that is great about Alan.  He is not, as some trainers tend to be . . . well, the best word I can think of is dogmatic.  Alan totally gets the flexibility that is needed for effective training, he understands that every handler and every dog are unique. 

    These days, when Spur and I go to Alan's, we do our own work alongside his busy class.  This is the environment we will encounter at shows. 

    The rings at dog shows may be bordered by babygates, or perhaps only by ribbons at waist height.  To Spur, who stands 15 inches at the shoulder, that is no boundary at all.  I have to be sure he won't react to a dog running by, a handler shouting commands in the next ring, the sound of applause for awards or other dogs (or him!), or any one of a myriad of distractions that might occur.

    If Spur will respond to the signals I give him from 50 feet away when there's an entire pack of dogs and handlers practicing retrieves directly behind me . . . . then by gosh there's a chance he'll do it in the actual show ring as well.

    We've now been getting ready for Spur's first entry into the Utility ring for a solid year.  No wait - we've been getting ready for it for four years.  We've been focused on it for a year.  We have 12 days to go.  I do not know if we are ready.

    For these last days I am taking every opportunity to take Spur anywhere I can to reinforce the notion that Utility exercises are fun under any and all circumstances, and that there is no more joyous experience than immediate response to the commands I will be allowed to utter only once.

    If I am grasping at straws as we approach the big day, then Alan's class is definitely a lifeline.
   

    In the midst of all the current frenzy over Spur's upcoming shows, the USPS brings a message from our vet.  It is time for Petra's geriatric check-up.

    Petra?  Geriatric?  How has this come to be?

    The fact is, Dunnigan's Queen Petra will turn 13 this June.  That's  not completely ancient for a miniature schnauzer who may live to 16 or 18.  But if you subscribe to the dog years theory, it makes her an elderly 91 in human terms.  No way.

    Petra was my first obedience dog, followed closely by her long-term companion, Dunnigan's Mr. Axel Extraordinaire.  I cut my obedience teeth on these two dogs, and now may not be a bad time to set a few things right.  The fact is, I owe Petra an apology.  Or more.

    My first plan was simply to have an obedient dog.  A dog I could take places.  Who would be companionable with me, with other people, with other dogs.  But I very quickly caught the obedience bug.  First I craved the Novice title, then the others, then I really hoped we would earn some ribbons.  I couldn't help myself.  I got caught up.

    And in those days, just a dozen years ago, the training was a little less enlightened.  I didn't much know what I was doing.  And so I jerked Petra along on a choke collar to try and persuade her to heel.  I pinched her ear to get her to pick up her dumbbell.  I sometimes voiced my frustrations.

    I understand better now that the problem was never with Petra.  It was always with me.  It was my responsibility to teach her what I wanted, to make it fun for both of us, to build her confidence and pride.  Spur is the current beneficiary of my insights and experience.  But Petra did her best.

    She was always stalwart in the ring, we had some great moments, and the thrill of a blue ribbon or two.  We went to the AKC national invitationals - we were among the top 100 obedience dogs in the nation!  And I recovered fairly quickly from the fact that we finished the competition in 99th place.

    Petra gave me better than I deserved, and I have done my best to give her a life of love in return.  Today she is happily retired, with a few years ahead, I hope.  She watches Spur's antics and training regime with interest but not envy.  She knows she will also get a cookie when his work session is complete.

    Over the years, one of us has trained the other.  I'm no longer sure exactly which is which.

It was a lovely Saturday so Spur and I headed to the park.  My plan was to work on goes - this is the part of the Directed Jumping exercise in which he must run straight away from me until I tell him to stop and sit.  It's the element of Utility which worries me the most.

When we got to the park, I was disappointed to find almost no one there on this gorgeous day.  Distractions would be few, and I envisioned a session that might not be too productive.  If there are no mistakes, there can be no corrections.  Without at least occasional corrections, it's hard to reinforce the joys of successful behavior.

We started with some silly games, a little heeling, and I moved on signals.  I left Spur in a stand, walked across the ring, and turned to find him already down.  Hmmm.  No big deal, just a little episode of "dog brain."

I returned to him and we started over.  This time, when I turned to signal he was still standing.  Good.  He was staring directly at me, only open field behind me, a little boy and his mom having lunch at a picnic table a hundred yards away the only other people around. 

I gave the signal.  Nothing.  Back to start over, and this time a correction - I hooked a finger in his collar to pull him into a down, followed by praise praise praise.  But no cookie.  I started over again, and this time gave the signal from a much closer distance.  Nothing.

It was as if I had turned invisible.  As if he'd never seen a down signal before.  As if he had decided to . . . . well, to literally take a stand and stick with it.

He finally responded to a signal from about three feet away, received a cookie and a ton of praise and we moved on to other things.  For more than 30 minutes I ran about like a maniac, tossing toys over the broad jump, and focusing on all the exercise he loves to do best, interspersed with spinning and jumping through my legs.

Finally, after a spin, I left him in a stand, ran across the ring, turned and signaled the down.  Yessss!  We had a party on the spot, and then packed up to head home.

In the car, I tried to push back the worry that nibbles at the edge of my mind.  Are we really ready for this?  We are three weeks out from show date, and my dog still occasionally decides . . . . not today, thank you. 

Can't help it, I believe there's hope.  But these next three weeks are going to be very busy.

Friends in my non-dog life keep asking me what it is I'm so worked up about these days.  Utility Dog?  What the heck is that? 

Well.

AKC obedience titles are based on three sets of exercises, Novice, Open and Utility, Utility being the most difficult.  In a nutshell, at the April shows at Cal Expo, Spur and I will enter the ring, and in about ten minutes we'll go through five exercises.  If we complete them successfully on three different days, we'll have a new title.  Utility Dog!

But the exercises are difficult.  At the A level - dogs who don't already hold a UD, Utility Dog, title - it's routine to see only one or two dogs pass in a class of 20 or more.  Uh oh!

What's so tough?  Here are the five exercises:

1.  Signals.  Spur will heel with me on hand signals only, sitting any time the judge tells me to stop.  Until I'm instructed to give him a hand signal to stand.  Then I'll walk to the other side of the ring, about 40 feet away, and signal him to down, then sit, then come.

2.  Scent discrimination.  I'll send Spur to a scattering of 9 dumbell-like articles, some leather some metal.  He must bring me the one I have touched.  Once with leather, once with metal.

3.  Directed retrieve.  Three gloves will be set out along one edge of the ring.  One in the center, one at each end.  Spur must retrieve the glove I point at.

4.  Stand for exam.  I'll heel him across the ring, then command him to stand while I continue walking without pause.  The judge will approach and examine him, then I will call him to return to me and take heel position.

5.  Directed jumping.  I'll command Spur to run away from me as fast as he can, until I tell him to sit.  A jump is set at either side of the ring.  He must return to me by taking whichever of the jumps I point at.  He'll do this twice, once for each jump.

Or at least I hope he will. 

For this, and all obedience classes, we enter the ring with 200 points.  The judge will follow us about, and mark us down for every infraction.  A crooked sit, a lack of enthusiasm, or sloppy handling on my part all equal points off.  I must score at least 170 points to pass.  No treats allowed in the ring, no encouragement during exercises, and no commands may be repeated more than once.

It feels like there are a million ways to get marked down, and certainly more than 60 ways to fail on the spot.  If he picks the wrong article, glances away and misses a hand signal, or stops to gawk too long at another dog outside the ring . . . .we are toast.

I started introducing Spur to the concepts behind some of these exercises at the age of eight weeks.  At four years, he is about the right age to begin competition.  But a lot can go wrong.

My first obedience dog, Petra, showed in a dozen trials before she achieved the three successes necessary for a title.  My second dog, Axel, required 18 trials.

I'm a better handler now, and Spur is the right dog.  What if he earned his title over the four days of shows at Cal Expo in April?  It's highly unlikely, but I can imagine it.  It's fun and scary to think about.

I can't help it.  I can't get the possibility out of my mind. 

With the Sacramento AKC obedience trials just a few weeks away, Spur and I have upped our training schedule to the max.  It's important that he practice his skills in as many different venues as possible.  Dogs are very situational.  Spur knows the exercises, but he hasn't fully realized that he must do them wherever we are, and that performance is not optional.

For now, I'm keeping the car loaded with Spur's crate, my jumps, ring gates and other paraphernalia.  When I get home from work, we leap in and go!

I often take him to a park near our house in Folsom.  It's large, and so there are several areas that feel "new" to him.  I'm looking for the busy places where he'll face the greatest distractions.  Last night I set up my ring right next to the basketball court where a very energetic pick-up game was ongoing.

We practiced signals with that background.  From about 50 feet away, I gave Spur signals to down, sit, and come, with all that dynamic activity immediately behind me. 

After a while, a little boy, about 4 years old, came to watch us.  As I called out commands, the boy yelled each one right after me.  When I had Spur take the jump on the right, the little boy took the jump on the left.  Both boys were having a grand time, and it was good stuff for Spur.

There were moments when Spur's brain turned briefly to dog mush - "How can I possibly heel nicely with this very fun child racing through our ring?" - but he quickly decided the treats and action I offered were every bit as fun.

After a while the young man's  mother wandered over to apologize for the interference, but I thanked her, instead.  This was ideal!  There are no children in the ring at shows, but they sometimes hang over the gates, or stand nearby with tempting foods, toys and activities. 

My greatest challenge is to be more fun and more interesting than anything else that could possibly occur.  We want to earn our titles, and eventually I would like to experience some competitive wins.  But it will all always be a game to Spur. 

It's obedience, but it's also about great fun and great love.  Those are the qualities at the foundation of the training that I hope will one day take us into a winner's circle.

After ten years of showing my miniature schnauzers in AKC obedience trials, it's fun to have a chance to chronicle the journey towards titles, the fun we have together, the interesting people and amazing dogs we meet along the way.  I learn something new from Spur every day - and I hope he learns a few things from me!

But mostly, I am finding that this competition is a small reflection of life.  You get out of it what you put into it.  Spur and I have a very nice mutual admiration society in progress, and some similar objectives - we both like prizes!  But the road ahead is a very challenging one, and it is a journey I continue eagerly.

In a nutshell, Spur (whom the AKC knows as Southcross Texas Ryder) is a miniature schnauzer who turns four this month.  He is the youngest of my three minis.  The other two, Petra and Axel, are retired after years of showing.  I learned a lot by working with them, and they had some very nice accomplishments. But we were all cutting our teeth.  Now we've all learned a few things together, and I have high hopes for Spur.

In the world of dog competition, it can be unseemly to talk about such things.  But I would like to see us win as many titles as we can.. Initially it's all about making the grade in obedience classes - one has to pass the classes which isn't easy.  Eventually it's about outperforming other dogs of all breeds, and in California the competition is _very_ tough.

Spur holds the first two titles.  Companion Dog, the novice level, and Companion Dog Excellent, the open level.  In April, we will "come out"  in utility at the Terrier Club and Sacramento Kennel Club shows here locally.  That is the next step in a quest that will be long and challenging.

This blog will be my chronicle of our journey.  I look forward to posting!