Dog training tonight went up a level. No more Mr Nice Guy in this show ring.
After last weeks ‘friendly’ competitions the onus has been placed on building up speed and knocking valuable seconds off our circuit times.
New techniques for speeding up were tried out and we were all feeling rather pleased with ourselves and quite exhausted after all the running around.
My best time of the evening was a very creditable 6.4 seconds to cover eight jumps. Not too shabby, I thought.
Then in walked Dexter with his owner.
Let me introduce you to Dexter. He’s a ginger haired border collie type dog with a ginger haired Afghan hound looky like owner whose name I don’t know.
“Oh! Dexter’s here. He’ll show you how to do it!” squealed the trainer with delight. I think she has a bit of a ‘thing’ for Dexter, not so much for his owner.
Dexter swaggered to the start jump, swinging his tail from left to right and throwing a glance over his shoulder to the girly dogs as he went. I’m almost sure I saw him wink at Mrs Woofy.
He settled himself at the start of the course together with his master, this tall, adolescent boy of athletic, willowy build and elegant stature.
The stature in fact of a Masai Mara runner, (or an afghan hound) crossed my mind as he stood there shaking out his long limbs ready to start .
My suspicions of him having Masai Mara ancestry were heightened when he set off running round the course. He was nimble and elegant on his feet, making the mad dash round the doggie assault course look like a stroll in the country, zipping round in only 6.1 seconds.
6.1 seconds! That’s better than Mrs Woofy! Boo!
Where on earth did this competitive streak of mine come from? Im not competitive!
Obviously I am. I was narked!
Then I stopped to consider: Comparing him, Mr Masai Mara, to my 51 years, 5 ft 3 height, short legs, built for comfort not speed figure and ginormous chesticles to trip over and I’m really rather proud of my 6 . 4 seconds.
Mrs Woofy was obviously proud as well and decided to make a dash for freedom to celebrate and do a lap of honour. She managed to get in another ten or so jumps before stopping for a quick snack of horse poo she found in a corner and before finishing off with an impressive flying leap from the dog equivalent of the high wire, landing with two paws in the air and shouting; HAI-YA!
While the dog was doing her lap of honour I suddenly realised to my utter horror that my knickers had made a dash for freedom of their own. They’d slid down over my ample backside while I was gallumphing round the course and ended up hanging upside down suspended by the gusset on my trousers. All I can say is thank God I was wearing trousers!
I made a tight kneed walk back across the show ring, I don’t know why because they couldn’t go anywhere but I was feeling terribly vulnerable. I stood as far away from the other dog handlers as possible while discreetly trying to pull up my keks from outside my trousers, inch by inch. Tricky to do without looking conspicuous and I suppose just a little bit creepy. I could have gone for the ‘sod it’ approach to knicker retrieval and just shoved my hands down my voluminous trousers to pull them up but I was quite embarrassed enough without wanting to draw further attention to myself and anyway I thought that would look really creepy so I stayed with the tight kneed walk and ‘inch the knickers back up’ technique until the end of the class which mercifully was only a few minutes later. A short, clenched walk back to the car later and all was back in it’s proper place.
So if this dog training lark is going to continue I can see that I’m going to have to add a new piece of equipment to the already growing list: BIGGER KNICKERS!