Xander and I earned his ADCH in December. After that, I felt the need for a well deserved break after many months of a fairly heavy competition schedule. Competing had become increasingly stressful and tedious, and I'd drifted from the actual love of the game which had brought me there in the first place. I was also afraid that Xander had stubbed his toe doing the A-frame on his last run of the weekend, and I scratched him from his remaining two runs so as not to risk further injury. This was easy to do, given that we had already earned the title I so "doggedly" had sought. In the back of my mind, I wondered if I would have been so willing and able to make that sound decision if our title was still on the line. That has troubled me ever since. When Kaylee hurt her back in the summer after she earned her MACH, I was desperate to get her "fixed" so she could compete in Nationals later in the fall. We traveled back and forth to Gainesville for acupuncture and I learned massage therapy and how to use ice/heat, etc. She came back to compete, but shortly after that my domestic situation changed and we ended up taking two years off from agility. In the years following, I was never as driven to compete with her. I knew she had the potential for re-injury, but the rules had changed to allow her to jump 8 inches as opposed to the 12 inches she'd had to jump for her first 30 DQ's. After she earned her MACH 2, I basically retired her. She was so consistent that we could have earned MANY MACH titles, but what was the point? Why would I risk injuring her for something so trivial as a title? What did it really mean anyway? Would the titles still make me happy if she was limping around in pain at 11 yrs old? Certainly not. She is currently that age and is happy, spry, and quite fast for the granny of the house. She certainly still gives the youngsters a run for their money.
As far as Xander goes, he is only 4 and will turn 5 at the end of August. Technically still in the prime of his life. He has been kept in good condition; exercised, conditioned, strengthened, stretched, etc. Why do I feel as though I don't want to do agility anymore?
I think it started with a trial we tried to attend in February in Savannah, GA. I should have known better than to enter an outdoor trial in February, but it was only for Saturday, and close enough that I could drive back and forth in the same day. First of all, it was BRUTALLY cold and windy. The jump uprights were blowing over in the wind, and a huge storm appeared to be heading our way. I grumbled as I tried to suffer the cold without hiding in my car. The dogs love the cold, so I knew they wouldn't mind. We had a nice FAST run, but an uncharacteristic mistake in the send. No big deal, as the run had other nice elements. Our jumpers run hours later was a bit of a train wreck because I was too cold and miserable to concentrate. I was actually relieved though, because there was no DQ on the line, and I could go home without kicking myself for missing out on standard. This seemed silly; to drive all that way (2+ hrs), pay the entry fees (about $60) and be RELIEVED that I got to leave early. Why was I doing this? I thought maybe I was just burnt out. Then I watched a gentleman (and I use that term loosely) LITERALLY cuss his tiny Boston terrier out for making a mistake on the jumper course. My friend Anna Marie and I stood in disbelief as he repeatedly dropped the f-bomb on the poor little dog and then after putting it in the car, slamming his door, pounding his fist on the car, and basically succumbing to a temper tantrum. And this was a LARGE GROWN MAN. We actually yelled at him to chill out. I was disgusted and so sad for that poor little dog. None of them CHOOSE to do agility. They don't care about freaking titles and stupid ribbons. They just want to play with us and they do a DAMN FINE job of deciphering our sometimes confusing attempts at communication. Even a dog that can sit and down on command is amazing, because we humans are too dense to know (or too arrogant to care) what other species are trying to communicate to us.
I left the trial that day and got a report later that it had poured down icy-cold rain, and people continued to run their dogs in it. No thanks. I was halfway home when all that nonsense started and feeling quite pleased with myself for that decision.
Lately, there was an incident in the agility community where dogs were asked to run on a slippery surface. A public outcry of rage followed and accusations of abuse were thrown around. Just yesterday, well known and generally highly respected competitor Susan Garrett posted a video of her young dog wiping out in the rain. Again, people responded with outrage that the dog would be asked to run in such a condition. I have seen many people ask dogs to run that appeared lame, or ran in slippery conditions, or on less than optimal equipment. Agility is like a fever, and when you want that high, some will risk their dog and throw common sense out the window. I am not saying that's what has happened to every person in these scenarios, but it is certainly a common factor in many cases I've seen where the title or the ribbon becomes more important than the dog or the relationship. I am not immune to this impulse, and that is why I have stepped away from the sport for several months reevaluate how I feel about it. If agility is a drug, you cannot "dabble" in it and remain clear headed. You must go cold turkey.
Sadly, when I joined the sport over 15yrs ago, it was a tiny group of people doing something new and unique that few had ever heard about. To get a dog to weave was an incredible achievement in and of itself. Now, many years later, dogs are being asked to do incredibly difficult and complicated things, and the standards we hold them to are much higher. Where once small victories were celebrated, now we are more likely to be hyper-critical of small mistakes and failures. I find it very sad that no longer at the center of the sport is the love of playing with your dog, rather it is the desire to become a champion and nationally recognized. I thought I wanted this once too. And of course not everyone at the highest levels has lost sight of their love for their dog, but the relationship is complicated now. Many of these top competitors would not be likely to just have a dog for the sake of enjoying their company, instead they choose their dogs carefully based on structure, drive, speed, biddability, and the potential to become a champion athlete. I actually had in the back of my mind when I got Trudy that I hoped she didn't like agility, but rather was just a happy, even-tempered, friendly little dog that I would just enjoy having around. While I won't say that she couldn't be taught to love agility, she really does prefer just to play in short sessions, cuddle, go for walks and annoy her brother. She is easy to take for walks to the beach, she loves everyone and has zero phobias, no reactivity, and is generally a doll to have around. I love Xander with all my heart, but he is reactive, phobic, and gets very stressed out in many situations. He is actually pretty laid back for his breed, but he is certainly not an "easy" dog. This is another issue, as these are the types of dogs you see more and more at shows. The focus is on dogs with drive and speed, but they come with all sorts of "side effects." Trying to navigate a crowded trial through a sea of dogs lunging at you from within their crates or on their leashes because they are so "driven" is nerve wracking. And being afraid to walk past other dogs on leash because both your own dog and those strange dogs are reactive is no fun. Waiting for hours and hours for your runs while listening to dozens of dogs stress bark in their cars and tents leaves me drained and irritated by the end of a long day.
When I think about spending hundreds of dollars, countless hours, and constantly risking the health and safety of my dogs for the pursuit of some essentially meaningless titles, I really can't justify it. I would actually love just to have a back yard big enough for some jumps to play with my dogs so I could enjoy that teamwork with them, but they are equally happy catching frisbees.
At some point, agility became like politics. There are "sides" now. Some who want to make it easier, others that want to make it harder. Some that say our dogs should never be asked to do "a" and others who say they shouldn't be asked to do "b" and others who say they should be able to do "a and b and also c." Some who say it's cruel to leave a dog crated, others who say it's cruel not to. Cliques are formed of the "highly competitive" who sometimes look down on the "casual competitor," Or perhaps the casual competitor interprets the serious competitor as being "meaner" to their dogs for holding them to a higher standard. I don't know what is right and what is wrong, or even if there IS such a thing. There is a reason I stay out of politics.
All I can say is that while I enjoy the basic premise of playing the game of agility, it has all gotten carried away. I love my dogs and just want to see them smile in that way that panting dogs do after a job well done. I don't want to be stressed out, worked up, nerve wracked, and irritated just to play a game. While there are many truly WONDERFUL people in the sport (and you know who you are), the taste of it all has gotten rather sour lately. I won't say that this can't change in the future, and I hope it does, but for now, I am just going to enjoy my dogs as best I can and see that they are as happy and healthy as I can make them without any expectations attached. Sleeping in on the weekends and having time to do laundry is also really nice.
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