Last Sunday was a day with a difference.
It was the day of the dog show where The Rev was due to run Mrs Woofy in her very first agility competition.
However, The Rev has been and gone and got himself another job. One that involves working Sundays. Oh dear. The kids had been looking forward to going. Oh dear again.
Well. The clingons had been promised a day at the dog show and a day at the dog show they were going to get. I dressed myself in my dog club polo shirt, you know, the bottle green one embroidered with mine and Mrs Woofy’s names, sad but true. Next I popped on a pair of brown leggings and my wooly walking socks – all the better to move in when keeping control of an excitable dog. I turned to the mirror to check the results of my carefully picked wardrobe and when I found myself standing tall and proud and saying “Ah yes, Little John and Friar Tuck, ’tis a fine day for a dog show!” I thought I might have to change the outfit to something a little less Robin Hoodesque.
Douggie the doggie at five months old was too young to enter anything and there was no me point entering anything with Mrs Woofy as I haven’t walked her for three months and only run her in the agility class a couple of times in the last month or so, so we were both out of practice. The plan was to go and watch the show and cheer on some other members of our dog club, get a couple of new toys for Douggie, enjoy the atmosphere and watch the competitions.
That was the plan. Once we arrived the other members of the club began to put on the pressure.
The next thing I know, I’m stood in the queue of competitors waiting for our turn to run. EEEEK!
Amazingly, we didn’t get disqualified on the first round. Mrs Woofy set off like a rocket, we did all the jumps in the correct order and Mrs Woofy was a star – apart from right at the very end when she ran towards Dangerous instead of over the last jump but we managed to correct that and get away with it. I did nearly die of exhaustion when we’d finished. I obviously put a lot more effort into it when it’s for real and not for practice. We had about five minutes to get our breath back before it was our turn to run again.
All the way through all I could hear was WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF as Douggie the doggie went crazy trying to join in. How very dare I do something without him – and with another dog?
We completed the second round but managed to get ourselves disqualified when Mrs Woofy back jumped a jump, she ran off for a sniff at some cow poo as well at one point so that was us out of the competition.
Batty sidled up to me. “Nanny. Can I have a go?”
“I, um, what, er, oh.” Was my response as I rapidly considered the idea of a blind kid running a twisty, turny, bumpy agility course with an excitable dog who goes like a rocket and is easily distracted.
However. My opinion is that she should be allowed to do whatever she wants a go at as long is it’s not going to kill her so we went off to the entry clerk and had a short chat with her.
“Of course she can do it, she can run it NFC.”
“What does that mean, no flippin’ chance?”
“Not for competition. Enter her in the helter skelter.”
I’m not sure what happened in my head when I heard ‘helter skelter’, I seemed to have got it confused with ‘steeplechase’ you know, a nice long straight run with jumps in a straight line. That would be perfect.
So we entered her in the helter skelter.
As we walked the course it became glaringly obvious to me that my brain had misled me. As you’ve no doubt already realised, a helter skelter goes round and round in circles. Oh. My. God. Talk about setting her up to fail.
I was allowed to run with her and help guide her round. What a shambles! What a laugh! It was like a Benny Hill sketch. Mrs Woofy made up her own course as me and Batty ran around shouting and waving our arms around like windmills. We did manage to get her back on track for the last three jumps which she cleared with a flourish – and then gave us her opinion of the competition by doing a great big poo right in the middle of the arena! The shame!!!
Then, of course, Dangerous wanted to have a go. She entered a pairs competition with Miss Yappy from our dog club. Miss Yappy did the course beautifully, passed the baton to Mrs Woofy who took one look at dangerous and decided that she’d just do her own thing and ran around like a fool while Dangerous stood helplessly watching. In the end Mrs Yappy’s handler got her back under control and the ordeal was over for Dangerous. Poor thing just felt humiliated, I really felt for her. It doesn’t seem to have put her off though.
So that was pretty much that. Let’s not talk about the waggiest tail competition where Mrs Woofy sat on her tail and wouldn’t budge it, or the most appealing eyes competition where she steadfastly looked at the floor and refused to even look at the judge. and all the while Douggie the doggie went WOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOFWOOF!!!!! My poor brain was scrambled by the end of it all.
When’s the next one?