SacPaws.com

    I'm calling this "Part I" because it's dawned on me there will be many more Parts to come . . .

    Moments after posting my earlier blog on lessons learned at the Rusch Park match, Spur and I went out to practice a few things.

    As is always the case in training, there were a few rocky moments.  Spur didn't respond to a hand signal to heel.  He didn't rush to the article pile on my first command.  He looked at me with curiousity when I asked him to "get back". 

    It occurred to me that each of these things also happened in the ring at the match.  Yet, when I wrote about the match, I noted none of them.  I had - conveniently forgotten?

    This is a key problem with dog training.  In my case, at least, I am so thrilled with success that I tend to forget certain minor non-successes.  And then, when we get to the ring, am so surprised when all does not go quite perfectly.

    If we are to reach the goals I have in mind, I must learn to be more observant, more honest with my dog and with myself.  I must train with a true eye to what is happening.

    It sounds so easy.  And yet it simply isn't.  I had honestly intended to note the key errors in my earlier blog.  I fully thought I had done so.  And so, it struck me mightily when, minutes later, I realized that no such thing had happened.

    How do I get this true eye?  A matter of training myself to what may be some painful truths, I expect. 

    Enjoying training and the thrill of seeing Spur perform is hugely rewarding.   But the acknowledgment that those accomplishments are real comes through earning titles in a fully objective setting.  That would be the obedience trials which now loom on my calendar.

    I've been thinking about all the work I must do with Spur.  I'm now more aware of the work I must do myself.

    If we're to do the things I'm hoping for, I need to cultivate a true and honest eye.  It's a challenge I may not have been fully ready for at an earlier time.  I am now.  For myself, and for Spur.

    Saturday, Rusch Park, a few hundred dogs and their owners out for a morning of practice and preparation.  We were there for obedience, conformation, rally, Canine Good Citizen, you name it. 

    The event is put on every year by the Doberman Pinscher Club of Sacramento, and they do a very fine job.  Lots of rings, knowledgeable match judges, good organization.  All that and a gorgeous day to boot.  Spur and I were ready for bear!

    Or something like that.

    After the April show mishaps, I am ready to get into some fine tuning. 

    With that in mind, I carted a babygate along, and set it up in front of some understanding friends.  The idea was to have Spur do go outs, running directly at a group of seated folks and their dogs.  He did it nicely - once he realized a cookie was hidden there.

    So the go outs remain an issue.  Spur will do them beautifully in a familiar setting.  Read:  a setting in which he knows a cookie is likely to be had.  My job is to build his confidence that no matter what the setting, when I point in a direction, and then tell him to "Go!" - he is very likely heading to a wonderful reward.

    This must be possible.  After all, week after week, I buy a Lotto ticket in hopes of hitting a big, or even a not-so-big win.  I've done it for years.  Hope springs eternal.

    In Spur's case, the vast majority of times, the cookie actually is there.  Hooray!  I know he is an optimist.  He is always hopeful that I am about to hand a cookie over.  The complication with the goes is that he must run away from me to get it.  At this point, for him, seeing is believing.   Getting beyond that is the challenge.

    Alas, it is not the only one.  We did an in-ring utility run-through twice, and both times he blew the second article.  In each case, he got the first article nicely, then ran out and grabbed any article at all on the second effort.  Hmmmmm.  My trainer, Mary Vogler, thinks this may be a symptom of basic stress.  Experience in the ring is the eventual cure for that.  In the meantime, I must do all I can to build his confidence.

    Finally, for whatever reason, although he is usually solid on the group exercises, on this day he chose to go down on the sit.  Rats.  This must be nipped in the bud, before it grows into a significant issue.  On Saturday, I had him do a long sit while the other dogs did their downs - he seemed to get the message.

    As did I.  The message being, our work is still cut out for us.  Spur knows all the exercises.  He has enthusiasm and drive.  But I can't fool myself.  He is far from solid.

    I recently got wind that a good friend's dog just earned his UD - after about 20 tries.  My friend is far more experienced than I, and dog training is her occupation.  The complexities and challenges involved in earning a Utility Dog title are pretty daunting.

    That is why some people call it a "Futility Dog" title. 

    Our next date in the trial ring will be May 17.  We have a lot to work on! 

    Each spring, the AKC Gazette publishes the results of all the previous year's competitions.  Championships, Obedience, Tracking, Agility, Rally, Field Trial, Hunt Test, Earthdog, Lure Coursing and other titles completed in 2007 are all found here, organized by group and breed.  Learn more about these activities by visiting the AKC web site.

    The information is most instructive. 

    First, it's clear that if you like dogs, and you like competition, or at least, active involvement, there is no shortage of opportunities to get involved in something fun.

    Secondly, it's plain to see, if you're interested in competing in obedience, a Miniature Schnauzer just might not be your very first dog of choice.

    It isn't that these schnauzies aren't smart or aren't obedient, because they are both.  It has more to do with the nature of the exercises.  How long does it take, for instance, to teach a Golden Retriever to retrieve?  Yes, yes, I know there are many nuances, and it can take a long time for even a Golden to get everything just perfectly. 

    But a Schnauzer?  It took me about six months to teach Petra to retrieve properly (yes, she and I were both very green).  But I remember that wonderful feeling of success very clearly.  Knowing I could teach her to retrieve left me feeling I could surely teach her anything - well, OK, that might have been an overabundance of optimism - in any case, I was hooked on obedience.

    There is no doubt that the Obedience exercises are more compatible with the natural inclinations of certain breeds.  That may explain why, in 2007, 31 Golden Retrievers earned the top title of Obedience Trial Champion.  They were closely followed by 20 Border Collies.

    And after that, there is a massive drop-off. 

    No French Bulldogs, no Afghan Hounds, no Neapolitan Mastiffs, and no German Pinschers made it to the top ranks.  In fact, those last two earned no obedience titles at any level. 

    It's a clue, people.  Dogs are different, and different dogs are good at different things.  Some dogs, like Border Collies and Dalmatians, really really need a job.  Some, perhaps the Bichon, are at their very best when providing love.

    In 2007, exactly two Miniature Schnauzers earned the top obedience title, but across the country some 58 earned obedience titles of some sort.  One of those would have been Spur, who earned a Companion Dog Excellent title in 2007.

    So we are not too far off the mark.  Spur seems to love the competition.  He seems happy in the ring.  And he adores going to the park for training.

    One day we'll be out there competing with the Goldens and all those others.  I think he's got it in him. 

    The AKC stats also include a list of the Top 25 obedience dogs by lifetime points.  Only six breeds are represented - Goldens, Shelties, Poodles, Border Collies, Australian Shepherds, and one lone Dobie.

    The list of the Top 25 for 2007 is similar.  It includes local handler Laurie Sasaki - a reader of this blog! - who ranks 5th nationally with her Australian Shepherd, Snip.  There is other inspiration as well.  A Collie, and, my goodness, a Keeshonden.

    So the unusual does happen.  If we work at it, maybe it could happen to us.  As long as we're also having fun, that's the sort of possibility that will keep us going. 

   

   

    I'm on the internet tonight, shopping for cheap sheets, all in the name of excellence in dog training.

    This spree is at the recommendation of my trainer, Mary Vogler.  For several weeks she's been away, or our schedules haven't meshed, and I haven't been able to visit her for the training sessions I consider vital to Spur's progress.

    This morning I was able to reach her by phone to gauge her reaction to a revelation that struck me, in the shower of course.  And the result of that conversation is that I am now shopping for sheets.

    What's this all about?

    We emerged legless from the recent AKC trials at CalExpo for two reasons.  One is that on Day 1, I was overcome by nervousness and totally blew the handling of one exercise.  The other is that on Days 2 and 3, Spur simply would not do the go out exercise.

    This is the exercise in which I command him to run away from me until I tell him to stop.  Then, via hand signal, I direct him to take one of the two jumps in the ring. 

    On Day 1, Spur did the goes, but shakily.  On Day 2, he was mystified by the command.  On Day 3, he went out, first over the bar jump, then over the high.  Both of which are disqualifying moves.

    But why was he so confounded by this familiar exercise?  Knowing the goes to be a problem, I'd made the exercise a focus for several weeks.  The result was that he did lovely goes at the match one week earlier, running out towards nothing.  In the park, we've been practicing with babygates, to great success.  At home, he runs out to a ribbon, a cone, a babygate, a post - anything I set up.

    At Cal Expo, we arrived early and practiced doing the go-out to the babygates outside conformation rings.  And yet, from inside the ring, my command to "go" produced only confusion.

    When we went back to the park to practice following our CalExpo failures, he returned to form with lovely go outs. 
   
    This was making me crazy. 

    And then, this morning, a flashbulb popped in my head.

    When I stood in the ring at CalExpo, I clearly saw the babygates and stanchions that formed the ring.  In fact, the area behind the ring was bounded by tall drapes of cloth, big blocks of blue and white.  This is what Spur was looking at, contrasting blocks (because he can't see color) that may well have obscured the familiar gates.

    Dogs are situational.  Every dog trainer knows that the big job is to make everything familiar.  But sometimes this is easier said than done.  To make it familiar we must first learn to see the situation through the dog's eyes.  And that is not so easy.

    But I am giving it a try - and for now, that means sheet shopping, so I can drape my gates with contrasting wide stripes, and familiarize Spur with that visual.  It seems so obvious.  But it took me days to realize the background could be an issue.

    Mary, of course, understood the problem immediately, had dealt with it herself, and had an immediate solution.  Yet another reason why her insight and knowledge are so invaluable.

    Once Spur is more experienced, he'll learn to be comfortable in different settings.  But for now, every details matters . . . much.

    Our next shows, coming up in May, will be outdoors.  I'll be practicing in the park.  I'll be sending him out toward people in chairs, as they might be in these venues.  And I will have the sheets at the ready, for a time when they'll be needed.

    Am I truly on the right track?  Spur will let me know. 

    I've been getting some fun comments about obedience, training and Spur, mostly sent privately to me as e-mail - don't hesitate to share your thoughts right here as well.  Just scroll down to the comment form below, and let me - and other readers - know what you're thinking, or what you'd like see discussed in this blog.

    I'm looking forward to sharing more information on Spur, our plans for his future, and our experiences along the campaign trail.

    Your participation is much appreciated!

    In 2003, Petra and I were fortunate enough to participate in the AKC Obedience Invitational.  The top four dogs of each breed are invited, and the show pits 100 of the top obedience dogs from across the nation.

    Alas, we finished in 99th place.  But we were still thrilled to be there, in that incredibly exciting environment.  And that year, there was a very special dog in the top rankings.  The dog which finished number two overall was a laborador retriever which had been a rescue dog.

     Tossed out a car window in a rural farm area as a young dog, this animal had been rescued by a lab lover who went to great pains to obtain AKC papers and train the animal for formal competition.  The story was the buzz of the show, and everyone loved the idea that any dog has the potential to rise to such a level of accomplishment.

    And it is true that every dog has great potential.  But the reality is that those of us who are focused on the notion of obedience competition give a lot of thought to puppy acquisition.

    My first two miniature schnauzers, Petra and Axel, have each earned respectable titles and been beloved in my life.  But as they grew older and I thought about a puppy, it occurred to me to do a little research.  Petra and Axel each came from a well reputed breeder in Dunnigan, California, who was willing to sell a "pet quality" dog to an enthusiastic schnauzer admirer.

    But what, I thought, if I actually got a puppy that had been identified by the breeder as having true obedience performance potential?  Perhaps even one that came from a line of obedience performers?

    I voiced these ideas one afternoon at a match, while standing in the place where all the best conversations take place - the "out of sight" location where handlers go for the three minute sit and five minute down that are part of Open competition.

    One of the women among our group was a top competitor and trainer.  "Go for it," she advised me.  "You're qualified to get a really good puppy."

    Qualified?

    But she was correct.  Most breeders don't want to sell a puppy with good conformation or obedience prospects to a complete unknown.  As a handler with titles on two dogs, they would look on me more favorably.

    And I already had a good connection.  I'd been in e-mail touch with the Obedience Chair of the American Miniature Schnauzer Club.  I had a lot of questions!  So when I learned she also occasionally bred puppies, I asked if she would consider selling one to me.

    I went on her waiting list, and some months later got the news - puppies were on the way!

    Sonny Lelle, of Southcross Miniature Schnauzers, lives in Austin, Texas.  A long way from my home in Folsom California, but a short jump for the dog of my dreams.

    In June, 2004, my husband and I made the trip to pick up our puppy.

    Sonny had picked him out for me.  He was bigger than the others and would clearly never be a conformation dog.  But she felt that his early sense of independence, his adventurousness and constant urge to explore were all the right signs. 

    She told me I could take any of the eight puppies I preferred, but she said that if I was serious about obedience, I'd go for the one with the bit of red yarn around his neck.  Which is exactly what I did.

    In the long run, does it really matter so much?  I'm honestly not sure.  As his handler, I have the ability to help him realize all the possibilities, or to absolutely wreck his potential.  I am doing my best.

    The shows last weekend were a bit of a disappointment.  Three outings, three failures.  But there were people with knowledgeable eyes on us.  On Sunday nite, I had a note from a friend in another state.  "People are saying Spur looked good in the ring," she wrote.  "They're saying he could be the one."

    Would't it be fun if they are right?

    Ah, the good, the bad and the ugly.  After two days of all-terrier obedience trials, and one day at the Sacramento Kennel Club trials, Spur remains legless.  i have made the difficult decision to scratch the fourth day.

    And that, my friends, is the ugly.

    We are not alone in our misery.  The Utility A classes were, in a word, mowed down.  In two days of terrier trials, there was just one qualifying entry.  Alice Peterson, who came all the way from Boise, and Chett (Brisbane Plumperfect Wizz Kid) eked out a qualifying score on Friday, and another at the Airedale specialty that evening. 

    I say "eked" because, stalwart though he may be, Chett was a bit of a reluctant performer.

    But on Saturday, in an all breed Utility A class that had swelled to 18 dogs, they couldn't repeat the feat, and neither could anyone else.  Not one single dog qualified.  This was, indeed, the bad.

    I had envisioned a blog entitled, "Spur Earns First Leg".  Perhaps even, "Spur is Now a Utility Dog".  Alas, it was not to be.  They say, everyone says, obedience training and trialing are humbling experiences.  It is all too true. 

    On Friday, Spur was sharp as a tack, bright as a whistle, ready and eager to go go go.  Sort of.  He whipped through signals, articles, gloves and the moving stand as if born to perform.  He was utterly confident, energetic and eager.  He calmed my nerves.  Right up to  moment when I heeled him into position for the go, pointed out the location and "look" and commanded him to "go place". 

    He went, in a word, nowhere.  He looked at me, he looked about, he looked confused.  We tried a second time.  Same result.

    I was not completely discouraged.  True, we had NQ'ed for a second time.  Yet things had almost gone really well!  I made a plan.

    On Saturday morning, before the show, I took him to a nearby basketball court - the nearest approximation I could find of an indoor ring - and set up my babygates.  I hid cheese bites at the crucial spots.  And we did goes for 30 minutes.  Back and forth  with joy and abandon, without hesitation, with absolute clarify.  "Go place!" I cried, and away Spur went.

    But at the show, it was not to be.  Saturday was more crowded, more chaotic, and I believe Spur felt the tension.  He missed an article.  Oh well.  It happens.

    But then . . . the goes.  I pointed out his "look".  I gave him a vigorous send-off.  And away he went . . . over the jump.  "Exercise finished!" cried the judge.  And I decided, on the spot, we would not be returning.

    That was the additional bad.

    And yet, despite the disappointment, I was not truly discouraged.  There was also the good.

    Spur was clearly a little bit discombobulated by the show environment.  Especially on Saturday.  Lots of people.  Lots of action.  People clapping at odd moments.  Dogs everywhere!

    Yet when we entered the ring, Spur changed.  "Oh this?" he seemed to be saying.  "This is what we're here for?  I can do it!"

    He was happy to be showing his stuff.  He was having fun.  And if there were parts of it he didn't quite yet get, he's clearly fully determined to figure that out.  That was the sense he gave me - and it was thrilling.

    Then there were the people.

    On Friday, Barbara Henry, whose Irish terriers have won every award imaginable, was encouraging and full of tips.  On Saturday, AKC judge Stephanie Gomez, there to show her own dog, was the same.  She waited for me outside the ring to tell me how well Spur had done, and offer helpful suggestions.

    That generosity of spirit made my day.  Spur's genuine enthusiasm was incredibly encouraging.  He is a star . . . to be.

    Obedience trials are a journey.  Our next show will be in about a month.  There is a lot to do - and there will be many stories to tell - in the meantime.  I don't know when it will happen, but I do know we'll earn this title and move on to the next, even more difficult phase.

    It will all happen in its time.  For now, Spur is having fun, I remain encouraged, and our journey continues.

   

    Could anyone possibly be more nervous than I have been for the past day?  Too nervous to sleep last night.  Too nervous to eat breakfast.  So nervous I almost left Spur's leash on the kitchen counter as we packed out the door.

    My main objective was to keep Spur from realizing how nervous I felt.  My strategy was simple:  as much as possible, keep everything the same!   Easier said than done.

    In the car, I tried to distract myself by setting the iPod to Top 25 Songlist.  So Spur and I drove off to CalExpo listening to a wild mix of Stevie Wonder, Cher, Keith Urban and Eminem.  Lose Yourself!

    My mind was whirling with my trial day strategy.  Practice go-outs outside the ring before the judges arrive.  Walk around to familiarize Spur with the venue.  Leave plenty of time for potties.  Remember to play a tiny game - perhaps a quick spin? - in the ring in between exercises. 

    We arrived two hours before we would show, and I started working him near the conformation rings.  And quickly realized I was obsessing beyond all reason.  I took a deep breath, and gave him a crate break while I did some deep breathing and chatted with the other handlers.   

    Then I sat with Spur in my lap for an hour as we watched the B dogs do their stuff.  It wasn't pretty, and I felt the pressure begin to return.

    A few minutes before our turn was due we warmed up and I took my last deep breath.  I wouldn't breath again until we exited the ring.

    As we entered, a small miracle.  Spur, who'd been looking lively but a bit overwhelmed by it all , suddenly took on a new air.  "Oh," I could feel him saying to himself, "we're doing this?  I know all about this!"

    And we launched into great heeling, and crisp articles.  Then came the glove exercise. 

    Which is where I lost it.  I gave the wrong command for him to back into position for glove 3.  He was confused and I was flustered.  I followed up with a poor hand signal, and Spur ran in an utterly wrong direction.  No glove.  We had NQ'ed.

    We gathered ourselves up and did a moving stand.  No trouble with the goes or directed jumping.  Except for my error - we would have been there.

    "I like this dog," the judge told me.  "You can tell he wants to do it," she added, giving me a sideways glance.  Yes.  A little decent handling helps.

    And so we return tomorrow.  Hopefully, I'll get things right.  Hopefully, Spur's enthusiasm will remain unchecked. 

    But hopes can take you only so far.  Tonite we'll go to the park for a little fun practice to reinforce our foundation.  And tomorrow, I will try very hard to remember to breathe.

    

      Show results for all four days of shows are now available.
 

    Our big trial debut in Utility Class is now just a couple of days away. We've trained rigorously, and while there is last minute prep and trial day strategy to think about, at the moment I am focused on something even more important:  what to wear?

    We obedience people take an utterly different approach than the folks over in the conformation rings.  Those Westminster Kennel-style competitions seem to require the wearing of outfits that look like a lawyers' professional garb for courtroom day, but are usually made out of the cheapest of polyesters.

    I get it.  After all, it's imperative that dog show wear be impervious to any substance that could possibly come out of a dog.  It must also have the ability to stand up to the most effusive dog greeting imaginable.  So durability and wash and wear are the key. 

    Still, most of these outfits look pretty ridiculous.

    We obedience people are different.  We're more practical.  We must definitely meet the criteria above, but here's what else I'm thinking about:

    Shoes.  I will wear exactly the same pair of shoes I always wear when training Spur.  The more I can keep things the same in the ring as they are in training and in everyday life, the better.  So look for me in a pair of gray Vasque light hikers with Goretex inserts for those wet grass days.

    Pants.  No one wears skirts in Obedience (except the occasional odd judge).  I was going to add - and I do mean odd - but these people are going to be scoring me for years to come.  My only comment about judges is that they are all highly intelligent and exceptionally caring people.

    Back to pants.  It's not a bad idea to wear pants that match the color of your dog.  When you're being judged on the perfection of your heeling, a pair of bright red pants only highlights the fact that your black lab is inches away from the perfect position.  His shoulder should be lined up with your pants outseam. 

    Finding pants the right color is not so easy.  For several years now, gray has not been the color, and I was forced to show my gray dogs in black pants.  But now gray is in.  Alas, my dog is black.

    Nonetheless, one of these days he too will be gray.  I have stocked up.  For the immediate future, I'll be in black or dark gray jeans.

    I have chosen purple as an accent color for Spur (Petra was neon pink, Axel was bright blue).  This is just my own fun theme, many handlers think the hue of leather works perfectly well.  I am constantly on the lookout for purple shirts, polos, t-shirts and vests.  A practical purple vest is very hard to find.

    After months of scanning Land's End and other catalogs, I have a lavender shirt, a purple striped shirt, and a purple golf vest from Iznad.  It's important that Spur be able to see my arms clearly, and a vest will help with that.  The contrast between the pale color of the shirt on my arms and the deep purple should help him recognize my signals. 

    Let's face it, this is a dog who can see a mouse scurry at 50 yards or more.  It shouldn't be a problem, but I'm not taking any chances.

    I will also wear the watch I always wear in training.  In training, there is often a piece of cheese squeezed between my wrist and the watch.  There will be no such thing in the trial ring, but if I tap my watch and say "Time to heel!", Spur will still get the idea.

    As for Spur, his outfit must also be given careful consideration.  He has a beautiful purple leather "special occasion" leash.  I will leave it at home, along with it's matching collar.  Instead, I'll take the purple nylon rope-style leash we always use in training.  Sometimes it makes him joyful to play tug o' war with it.

    And he'll wear exactly the same collar he always wears when training.  Which is exactly like the collar he wears every day, just minus the tags. 

    Spur will know it's a workday the minute I put on my gray shoes.  I have my fingers crossed he'll decide he's up for the job! 

    On a Saturday morning, there's hardly a more enlivening place to be than at a Fun Match, and the Sierra Pacific Great Pyrenees' Club event at Hagan Park in Carmichael was no exception.  By mid-morning, more than 200 dogs had been entered in obedience, rally and conformation activities, with more expected to arrive as the day proceeded.

    For obedience competitors, these Fun Matches, put on by various dog clubs around the area, are virtually a lifeline.  They offer a no-pressure opportunity to give our dogs an experience that is much like being in an actual trial ring.

    That means a chance to check on a dog's training level.  Is he ready for the real thing?  It's also a chance to help the dog from becoming too trial-ring-wise.

    A a real trial, there are no treats allowed in the ring, no corrections, no second commands, and no activity that the judge perceives as training.  Trials are 100 percent performance.

    But Fun Matches are indeed meant to be fun, and anything goes.  That means I can surprise Spur's good heeling with a reward of the cheese I keep hidden beneath my watch.   I can correct him for sniffing at the grass instead of the scent articles.  I can hide a treat at the end of the ring for his go out.  I can play more lively in-ring games between the exercises.  And, above all, I can praise praise praise when things go well.

    My hope is that when we do enter the trial ring, Spur will spend our short time there locked into the solid belief that a cookie could come his way at any instant.

    The dynamic atmosphere at Saturday's event was every bit as energetic, if not more so, than at any trial.  And there's a hint of chaos which is ideal for teaching any dog to manage distractions.

    The rings were defined by fluttering ribbons strung between posts.  There were no stanchions or posts, so Spur's go-out target was . . . absolutely invisible.  He ran the length of the ring based on his utter faith that he would find a treat there . . . and so he did.

    He also had a chance to practice being calm around all kinds of people and dogs.  A few stopped to take his picture.  A child or two asked if it would be OK to pet.  And more than one dog managed to nose into his personal space uninvited.

    Our volunteer judge pointed out there were things she could do to make our ring time easier, but I asked for the opposite.  I did signals directly in front of the area were most people stood.  I declined the offer of a mini-size traffic cone to mark his go out spot, but sent him, essentially, to nothing.  I sent him to the glove in the busiest corner.

    As a result of all this, mistakes were made.  Hopefully, I was able to successfully use them to reinforce the right way to do things, to more clearly share my wishes with Spur.

    Some handlers feel it's important to complete several error-free Fun Match showings before going on to trial.  If that were true . . . we'd never get there!

    Instead, we had fun at the Fun Match, and hopefully, some learning also took place.  Are we ready for the real thing?  Honestly, l don't know. 

    On Thursday of this week, at the Northern California Terrier Association Trials, I'll find out for sure. 

    Wtih just a few days left before the trials at CalExpo, I'm as concerned about my own conduct in the ring as I am about Spur's knowledge of the exercises.

    Truth be told, by now, he knows what to do - or else he doesn't.  However he performs, there's another world of ways I can help or hurt our performance.  To observers, the handler's actions must appear smooth and seamless.  But I know my brain will be whirring every second.

    My first goal will be to keep it fun for Spur, and hopefully for myself as well!  Though every handler has jangly nerves, I must try to convince Spur we're both having a ball.  I will give him a big smile whenever I can, so he constantly knows I'm happy with him.  In between exercises, I'm allowed to touch and praise him, within reason.

    In between exercises, we can also very quickly do a couple of little fun things, I can have him spin or run through my legs, both little actions he enjoys, and which help keep him energized.  I'll also heel him between exercises, with lots of praise, so he knows what a good boy he is.

    I may also tap my watch as we heel between exercises.  That's where treats come from in training, and it will remind him that there are rewards involved with this fun stuff!

    I'll also need to be as helpful as possible.  That means I should keep my stride uniform in heeling, glide in and out of the fast and slow, and pivot smoothly.  I'll be practicing this footwork right before we enter the ring for sure.

    I'll also need to be careful that my signals are smooth, generous and are not rushed.  Trainer Judie Howard always suggests that handlers give signals as if moving their arms through Jello.  There's such a tendency to respond to the stress of the ring with overly quick signals. 

    I can also pause ever so briefly if Spur happens to look away when I'm giving a signal.  A signal he does not see will mean certain failure.

    Of course, it's also all important to avoid error.  I can be marked down just as much as Spur.  A second command, even unintended, perhaps with a body motion, is a failure.  I must listen to the judge carefully and follow directions exactly.  It's all too easy to turn in the wrong direction or signal my dog to an incorrect jump.  Sloppy handling, cajoling, a step forward at the wrong moment . . . there's a long list of mistakes that can cause a handler to lose points for an excellent dog.

    Finally, I must be prepared to deal with issues.  What if I sense I'm losing Spur's attention and interest?  What if he becomes distracted by activity in another ring?  What if he is looking away at a crucial moment? 

    In many cases, there are things I can do within the rules - for example, a second "heel" command is points off, but not a failure.  But I must be alert and ready to respond.  There is no time to think through these decisions.

    Once we enter the ring, Spur will do what he will do.  And I hope I have prepared him to do well!  I, on the other hand, will be facing a barrage of options and opportunity.

    I hope I can pull it off for him!

    I'm told that there are places in the US, especially in the midwest, where obedience trials are all held in virtually identical locations.  These are large buildings - because the weather is unsuitable for so much of the year - with nicely separated, babygated rings, pristeenly matted floors, observer chairs set well back, and an emphasis on hushed tones.

    That sounds so perfectly lovely.

    Here in Northern California, we exhibitors don't often encounter such ideal circumstances.

    Which is why, more often than not, my first thought upon arriving at almost any trial is:  Oh my goodness!  My dog can't possibly work in these conditions!

    I know I'm not alone in this sentiment.

    What are the conditions I so deplore?

    If the show is outdoors, it could be the grass is too long, or full of itchy weeds, or wet, or even frozen.  He'll never heel properly if he has to fight the elements at every step.

    Perhaps the day is gray and drizzly, or worse yet, bright with warm sunshine.  If it's hot, my dog will surely go down on the long sit.  If it's cold, he'll likely refuse to down on my signal.

    If the show is indoors, no doubt the rings are exactly adjacent.  My dog may well be distracted by action in the next ring, and fail to see my hand signal.  Or there could be people crowded up against the ring rope, which is usually the flimsiest of plastic ribbon set at waist height.  How is my little dog even supposed to know he's in a ring?

    Then there are the stewards.  If I'm greeted by a hefty tall man as I enter the ring it could cause my dog to lose all confidence on the spot.  Or what if the steward stands frighteningly near my articles or gloves?  My dog may refuse to approach the article pile at all.

    And let's not talk about the judges, several of whom are apparently blind, not to mention the numerous others who must make a hobby out of sharpening their pencils.

    The list of unfair, but generally fatal potential environmental interferences is endless.  People  eating.  People talking.  Hands clapping for awards in the next ring.  Glaring lights.  Excessive shade.  Thoughtless conformation handlers prancing by.

    Nearby mountains.  Mars rising.  El Nino.

    Yes, as I arrive and look around, I experience that sinking feeling.  I am doomed.  We are going to fail.  My entry fee was a huge waste. 

    I wish I lived in Iowa.

    And it isn't just me.  This is the relentless chatter before every show.  "Did you notice?" "Can you believe it?" "Have you heard what happened . . . . ?"

    It takes about 30 minutes to get over it, every time.  Then I realize, I don't want to live in Iowa, no matter how perfect the show conditions.  We are here and we can do it.

    My dog is waiting, not noticing all the annoying details of our current circumstance, but noticing me.  If I'm ready, he will be as well.

    Or so we'll soon find out.