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Rally in WrenthamJune 05, 2010 The first ferry of the day leaves Vineyard Haven dock at 6 a.m. That's the boat you take when the 7 and the 8:15 are fully booked and you have to be somewhere off-island before noon. I took it this morning because it was the only one that would get me where I was going by the time I needed to be there. Where I was going was Wrentham, Mass., specifically the Crackerbarrel Fairgrounds, where Travvy and I were signed up to make our first attempt at Rally Advanced. More about that later. To get on the 6 a.m. boat, you're supposed to be at the dock by 5:30. I live 20 minutes max. from Vineyard Haven, and given the traffic at that hour I could probably make it in 12, 15 at most, but traveling with a dog, like traveling with a kid, involves a lot of stuff. Since I was going to be getting up at 4:30, when there's a little light in the sky but not much, I did as much prep-and-packing as I could the night before. This included setting up Travvy's new soft crate in Malvina Forester's cargo hold, and dismantling the wire crate that is permanent furniture in my apartment and stowing it in the car. Trav would ride in the soft crate, and the wire crate (which is about an inch too tall to be set up in Malvina's cargo area) could be used outside the car. Predicted temps were warm, and on a warm late spring day, the inside of a car is not a good place for a dog, even with all the windows open. All non-perishable supplies went into a canvas bag: a horse sheet that Allie almost never wore that has found a second life as Travvy's crate bed; another horse hand-me-down, the well-worn and faded green saddle pad that serves as Trav's "go to place" mat and doubles as a bed for his soft crate; a space blanket to be used as a crate cover, shiny side out to deflect the sun's rays; and filled water bottle and empty water dish; plain web collar (collars with jangling tags are verboten in the Rally ring), two old chew bones, an orange Bento Ball, and a blue Kong Wubba. Into my brown messenger bag went the folder with vital statistics: copies of Trav's registration certificate and proof of rabies vaccination, along with info about the show, including how to get there. I put an unopened jar of Skippy's chunky peanut butter into the canvas bag -- Trav can entertain himself for a long time licking peanut butter out of the inside of old bones -- but as soon as I turned my back Trav liberated the peanut butter and busied himself trying to get the top off. I retrieved the jar, put it back in the bag, and put the bag up higher than Trav could reach. By 4:35 a.m. I was out of bed. I fed Trav, got dressed, and threw the perishables -- a big zip-lock bag of chopped turkey dog bits -- into the canvas bag. In the pre-dawn light it was hard to tell what the sky was saying, but my skin knew the air was saturated with moisture. I loaded Trav's bag and mine into the car, took Trav for a short pee walk, and we were off. By 5:25 I was checking in at the Steamship dock and rolling into lane 8. Most of the other vehicles on the six o'clock were pickups, some towing boats on trailers. Once on the mainland, we pulled off Route 28 at the Falmouth Ice Arena, behind which is a good place to allow dogs to do their serious business -- even if you're on the seven o'clock boat, never mind the six, the chances are slight that you've had time to do this before rushing for the boat. Next door is a Dunkin Donuts. I'd thought to get some coffee and either a bagel or a breakfast sandwich -- no time for tea and oatmeal when you're trying to get out the door by 5:15 a.m. -- but the line was too long and I wasn't that desperate. Off we went. The drive was uneventful till we hit a torrential downpour with thunder and lightning accompaniment somewhere past Taunton. Malvina's windshield wipers could barely keep up, and I could barely see the white lane lines or even the edge of the road. Evidently other drivers couldn't either, because the prevailing speed in the middle lanes dropped to about 50 mph, which is downright cautious for breakneck 495. The storm hit the Vineyard about 45 minutes later, cancelling agility class, flooding the roads, and bringing a freak lightning strike at some neighbors' up the road: the lightning jumped from a parked car to a string of Christmas lights that hadn't been put away, thence into the house, where it destroyed the TV and did some other damage. No one was hurt and nothing burned down, but the smell of burning was enough to bring out the West Tisbury fire department. I didn't learn about this till I got home. Judging by the puddles, the storm had passed over the Crackerbarrel Fairgrounds too. I found Wrentham, and the fairgrounds, with no trouble (and no GPS -- you really expect a girl who won't have a cell phone to come equipped with GPS?). It's a big show, featuring not only Rally and Obedience trials but an all-breed show, and a well-organized one. I figured that out from the clarity and friendliness of the parking attendants. When I told them where I was headed, they pointed me in the right direction. Pretty soon Malvina was settled in the general parking area closest to ring 18, where the Rally trials were being held. I sprang Trav from his crate and gave him water, then off we went to explore the grounds. He's always excited in new places, and new places with lots of dogs around are at the very top of his excitement list. This was the most exciting place he'd been since the two shows we went to at the Barnstable County fairgrounds last September. We kept our distance from the main event until he started to settle down, meaning that he could hear me when I said his name or asked him to sit, and he again showed interest in the hot dog morsels I offered him. We also kept our distance from other dogs. When I was pretty sure that his mind and his brain were in sync, we went back to the car. I set up the big crate, put Trav in it with peanut-butter-slathered bones and a treat-enhanced Bento Ball, covered all with the space blanket, and went off to check in at the Rally tent. The walk-through for Advanced didn't start till about 10:20, so Trav and I took another walk. He had calmed down enough to be paying attention at least 50% of the time. Then he went back to his crate (I reloaded the bones with peanut butter and the Bento Ball with bits of biscuit, hot dog, and kibble) and I went to walk the course. The course wasn't too scary. The obstacle I least wanted to see wasn't there: the broad jump. We've just started to practice with it, always with a bar over it to impress the dogs with the idea that they need to jump. At this stage, Travvy would probably treat an unaugmented broad jump as a bridge to be walked over, and walking over a jump is an automatic NQ -- the dreaded Not Qualified. There's always one jump in an Advanced course. This one was a bar jump, and it looked pretty sturdy. Whew. The other obstacle I didn't want to see was the off-set figure 8. Making a figure 8 around two cones is pretty easy. What makes it hard are the two dishes set on either side of the 8's middle: they've got kibble in them, and maybe a toy. Yeah, the food is covered, but dogs don't need to see food to know it's there and keep in mind that Advanced is done off-leash. We've practiced this at home and in class, but in this high-intensity environment I really didn't want to see an off-set figure 8 in my first Advanced course. I lucked out again: it wasn't there. Just before the walk-through, I met a young woman who, like me, was making her first attempt at Advanced. Broad jumps and off-set figure 8s were her least favorite prospects too. Her number was 29. We wished each other luck. The course did include both a 180-degree left pivot and a 90-degree left pivot, not to mention a sit–stand–walk around dog, but Trav and I are pretty good at those. It was pretty tight, but our practice area is tighter. I went back to the car, sprang Travvy again, and we went for a little practice walk under the trees, arriving at Ring 18 when it was almost our turn to go in. Last September the thought of competing in a Rally trial, period, was pretty damn scary. Competing in Rally Advanced, meaning without a leash, hadn't made it to the thought stage because it was totally unthinkable. Now we really were about to go into the ring and do a 16-station course -- without a leash. My worst fear was that with the leash removed, Trav would immediately race out of the ring. After quite a few practice sessions and much work on the West Tisbury tennis courts, I didn't think this scenario all that likely. Travvy was, however, very distracted at Start. In practice, he snaps to my side, leash or no leash. This morning the world was much more interesting. He drifted toward Finish on the opposite side of the ring. I coaxed him back and into a less-than-snappy, less-than-straight sit. The judge -- a wonderfully encouraging and patient woman -- asked the ritual question: "Is the team ready?" "We're ready," said I. After Start, the next station was Serpentine Weave Once: four cones in a line that you weave in and out of till you get to the end. Travvy still wasn't focused. Between cones 2 and 3 I called for a redo. You can call for a redo at any time as long as you haven't finished the station. It costs you 3 points, but blowing the station will cost you 10. In this case we probably wouldn't have lost all 10 points, but we seriously needed to regroup. It worked. We progressed to the next station. Travvy sat when I halted, he stood when I asked him to, and he stood still while I walked around him. Whew. We did the 270-degree turn to the right quite nicely, followed by the jump. In the corner was the 180-degree pivot to the left. We've done better in practice, but this was pretty good. We struck off on the diagonal for the 360-degree right circle, made the right turn, and had no trouble with sit–down–walk around. Next was Left About Turn, where handler turns to the left while dog comes around to the right behind her. We're very good at this, but having a distracted dog out of sight behind you is always risky. When we finished the maneuver, Trav was in heel position just where he was supposed to be. On we went to the 360-degree left circle. At the next station, the 90-degree pivot left, Travvy's focus was going south. In practice I would have produced a piece of hot dog from my mouth, pocket, or bait bag. In AKC competition, no food is allowed anywhere near the ring. No food, no leash -- that's why it's Advanced, right? We did manage the pivot, and the left turn that followed, but at the Slow Pace sign Travvy didn't notice that I'd slowed down till he was halfway to the Normal Pace sign that followed. After that was Finish. We made it -- then the fun started. Travvy started to walk out of the ring before I could call him front to wait for his leash to be returned. If your dog goes off-course, including out of the ring, you NQ if you or anyone else touches him. I forgot that it's OK to touch your dog or grab his collar after you've passed Finish. So I was trying to call him back, he wasn't paying attention, the ring steward was trying to block him and get me my leash, and in the confusion I tripped over Travvy and we both fell into the ring fence, Travvy first. When I got up and reached for his collar, he growled at me, one fang exposed. I was cautious but not alarmed: Trav was stressed, cranky, and on the verge of a tantrum. Once he was back on his own four paws he was fine. The judge told me to check in with the Rally and Obedience chair to let her know that we were both OK; the steward would take me to her after I'd taken Trav back to the car. I didn't know if we'd qualified or not: was Travvy's growling at me a deal-breaker? By the time I got back to the ring, having left Travvy in his crate with more peanut-buttered bones, the class was over and qualifiers were being called into the ring. My number, 33, was called. That was a pleasant surprise, but when 33 was called for second place, with a score of 92, I thought they'd made a mistake. Nope: along with my dark green qualifying ribbon I got a red for second place and a big squeaky stuffed tomato for Travvy. Number 29 had apparently NQed. I was sorry not to have had a chance to catch up with her. I then assured the Rally/Obedience chairperson, Julie (who's also a judge and an instructor), that Trav and I were both fine, no big deal. She said she had to fill out an incident report, but she didn't seem worried, and she gave me a big biscuit for Travvy. I was thinking that the big problem was Travvy's growling, but several people later thought it might be liability, e.g., they wanted to cover themselves in case I sued. The idea of me suing anybody because I tripped into a two-foot-high fence was almost as silly as me getting hurt because I tripped into a two-foot-high fence -- I mean, really, don't they know that I've fallen out of haylofts and had a horse flip over me, without getting hurt or suing anybody? No, they don't know; that's the point. I watched a couple of the Novice runs -- those lucky people who get to use leashes! -- but once the sun came out in earnest it was beastly hot and we were on the 2:30 boat. I packed up the car, tucked Trav into his travel crate (with more peanut-buttered bones), then pulled out the Subaru manual and figured out how to turn on Malvina's air conditioning. I hadn't used it before, never had a vehicle with A/C, but nothing's too good for my dog, right? Once back on 495 I discovered that A/C has another benefit: with all the windows closed, I can actually hear the music coming from the CD player. Hmm. I might have to get over my reservations about burning extra gas for comfort I don't need. Later someone suggested that open windows promote extra gas consumption by increasing the drag on forward motion. I love ideas like that. I pulled into the Burger King in Falmouth with plenty of time to get to Woods Hole by two, but while I was giving Trav water, a couple stopped by to admire him. "Malamute or Siberian?" they asked. "Malamute," I said. "That's what I thought," said the woman, "but I wasn't sure." Turns out they have three Sibes. We talked dog for at least 20 minutes. One of their dogs they've had from a puppy; the other two are both rescues. Travvy was a model friendly and patient dog throughout. The ferry docked at Oak Bluffs. Travvy back in his usual shotgun position, we headed home. Dog buddy and Rally classmate Julia lives on the way and I couldn't wait to tell somebody that we'd Qualified. Fortunately she was home. She called teacher Karen on her cell phone so I could give her the news. It was sort of sinking in that we'd really pulled it off: Travvy, the class wild man back in our Novice class, was the first of the group to get a leg on his Advanced title. We've got plenty of work to do, but we've worked hard, come a long way, and boy, does it feel good.
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