24 May 2015
Otterpop is on a roll. Maybe being a tour guide could be her next thing. Would anyone give Otterpop money to give them tours? Show of hands.
Indeed. What I thought. Regardless, let's go visit our neighborhood field. To recap, The UC will build a chunk of campus to teach students about biology and conserving the sea here. To do so, they are bulldozing and road building and habitat destroying not just loads of animals who I see every day named bunnies, birds, coyotes, lizards but a walking field for regular old people and their dogs. Who have walked around in here for like 30 years, some of us.
Here's where the goddamn gate will go. Otterpop is rolling her eyes. Otterpop finds SO MUCH IRONY here that her eyeballs cannot stop rolling and might one day just keep going and fall out her ears and roll down the hill and into the sea.
Running fence, running Banksy.
Pink stick at site of a turn in the new road. Here's a quote that one of the big cheese asshats of the project told us, us being citizens at large who are all, You asshats, don't throw the dogs out with the UC water. Of course saying way nicer than that with nice letters and meeting and useless petitions and all that crap. He, who is a big cheese asshat, said we have to make adjustments to better align our actions with our goals for the tangible benefits. All the buildings, parking lots, roads, and people who will use them are tangible benefits. Us meaning, us who use the field now by walking around in it, their dogs, the bunnies, coyotes, birds, lizards, gophers, animals we don't even know personally, and probably even the snakes are who have to align our actions with our goals.
Even the big ass stork birds. He probably doesn't see them because they are only there really, really early in the morning when it's raining out. Got that storks? Start aligning. You will get your slice of coastal prairie, wedged between the parking lot and the mobile home park, and that little wedge will be free from dogs.
Caution tape fence thingies. Don't go in here because it's been graded. There is zero nothing here anymore except dirt before the paving begins, so just move on. The dozers got all the animals to move on already. Actually here's who I saw in there. Some ducks were wandering around all dazed and confused in there.
It's cool. I was all, "Hey ducks! Just make adjustments to better align our actions with our goals for the tangible benefits!"
The ducks just kept wandering around.
Righty-o! Otterpop hopes to continue to entertain you with tours of her field as construction continues. If it doesn't cost me. There are child soldier cops out there with permission to grant hefty fines upon d-o-g-s, and the really strong people proofed fences will be going up next week. Feel free to toss her a bone. She currently provides her services for free, but you know. Sometime you might have to make an adjustment to better align your action with my goals for some tangible benefits. Whatever those are.
by team small dog at 6:53 AM
22 May 2015
Santa Cruz is best after dark when it's closed. Pretty much the only time it's nice here. Otterpop can show you where all the drug dealers lurk and then it's time to go to sleep.
How could this be any nicer? Only if Steve Buscemi was here to enjoy it with Otterpop. Viva la Boardwalk Empire of Otterpop. Keep the boardwalk closed forever.
These are some of Otterpop's friends and not friends on the log. Not friends came to visit. They are border collies and Otterpop was made to wear a leash near them because she is like the worse hostess ever. Otterpop the Hostess is like Betty Draper when they run out of cigarettes at the liquor store. Otterpop the Hostess is like Joaquin Phoenix when they run out of vegan sides at the pig roast. Otterpop the hostess is like The MuthaTrucken OIL SLICK MOVING ON SHORE RIGHT NOW ASSHAT OIL SLICKERS. The not friends got on Otterpop's logs. Otterpop was unimpressed.
Lucky clovers! As lucky as it gets when they are all 3 leafed clover. Otterpop will not tell you where this secret clover spot is when she takes you on a tour of the town.
Banksy showed the not friends where the creek was. Banksy is all "I'm a Good Hostess! I'm a Good Hostess!" Border collies. This is supposed to be a river but because of the drought it is a little trickle of water and it's pretty stupid so let the border collies have it. Stupid border collies. Stupid drought. Who needs it.
These are not Otterpop's friends. They are Laura's friends, however. Heather and Tammy came to visit all the way from Oregon in Heather's groovy dog van. They didn't stay long enough to see everything in town so hopefully they come again. No matter what Otterpop thinks.
by team small dog at 10:06 PM
19 May 2015
Otterpop found this friendly rock in the forest. I'm not sure what I think about people who decorate forest rocks with metallic silver sharpies and leave them laying around where just anybody could trip over them. It was in the rock area, so you know, all right.
Another case in point, things such as this ball. Banksy picked this up from behind a tree somewhere and walked approximately 2 miles with it in her mouth. She then dropped it into the spring box, dove into the spring box and climbed out, then became overcome with horror at having to jump back in the spring box to get it, and Otterpop was all, "Heh heh….heh."
It didn't seem right to leave it in there, as I have been grumbling about goddamn tennis balls don't belong in the forest for approximately 1.9 miles, so I fished it out, personally with my long pokey fingers. Then I gave it to Otterpop who carried it approximately .5 of a mile, to where the rocks were, and then last I saw Banksy dropped it in a blairwitch pile and it was never seen again.
Usually we don't see nobody in the forest. This is how I like it and how I like to set up my days to be optimally fantastic and if I do see somebody it's possible that we will all fade into the background to be unseen if we did the seeing first. Which is a little tricky in a drought forest that's bereft of almost all usual foliage except for abundantly healthful poison oak everywhere on the floor.
We did run into a guy a week or so ago who was looking for a specific tree. He was in the completely wrong quadrant and when I tried to start giving him directions to this specific tree, which is a tree of quiet notoriety of which nobody these days knows how to find. By chance he has run into me who knows where all the trees are, and I totally know this particular one, it's easy. It was also about a 2.5 mile walk from where he ran into us, and after a few minutes of me giving directions best followed by recognizing what the trees look like where paths wind in and out of each other like maze snakes, he has realized he has run into a crazy witch dog pack lady of the forest and he's gonna turn around because now he is so lost it's not even funny.
Well, funny ha ha to me. But I didn't laugh out loud. He decided to follow me out, rather than risk further lostness. He was young and skinny and had bad skin and I figured I could take him if it came to that. I told him one of my dogs bites, who was Otterpop and who I attached to me on a short little leash.
To look more menancing. Or whatever.
He asked me various questions as he tried to keep up with me, fast forest walking to the end of my walk which was at the edge of the forest where he'd be able to get unlost. I found that many of my answers did have a witchlike cackle and something like, "Well, back in the early eighties…" attached to them.
Which creeped me out even more than dragging out a poor lost little forest guy.
When he figured out where he was, he flashed me a peace sign, like they used to do in the '60's and he was gone. Off to find his tree. Maybe. Or maybe not.
by team small dog at 5:46 PM
I just read in Tammy's blog you can't use verbals. No seek/tap yelling in the future.
by team small dog at 9:03 AM
18 May 2015
If you ever see us walking and I am repeating over and over in a very quiet voice, "The future is here. The future is here. The future is here," it's because a drone just buzzed us.
Throw tennis balls at the drones. When possible. Or just run.
by team small dog at 6:09 PM
14 May 2015
Banksy has approximately 40 million videos of all her training at this point. Almost ever dogwalk she's run over has been carefully slowed down and studied and documented for which foot hits where and when and how many feet and how she hits the up and so on and so forth. All handling, carefully studied by me to see exactly how I suck and if this is something I can patch up next time.
I used to sometimes, sorta video the Original teamsmalldogs.
Now I realize, not enough. Sure, it would have helped with their training. But now I just want to see 'em go.
11 May 2015
This is where the forest is so dry the trees are starting to fall down the hill. There's only a trickle of rancid water down in the gulch. The forest is bare so you can see all the way through it, to what's on the other side. More dying forest.
by team small dog at 7:36 AM
09 May 2015
This is old enough to compete in an AKC trial. I believe that her brothers and sisters are beginning this right away! Since I haven't even registered her in AKC, and since we just learned a running a-frame last week, and since her 12 poles are about a half inch away from being completely closed, and since our dogwalk still requires a start jump wrap exactly 1.5 meters away to get her adjusted 5 stride hit, and since her teeter totter needs to start from a wrap jump, and since we have not done any contact and tunnel discriminations or turns yet, and since she goes totally apeshit at the sight of a dog doing agility still, we will sit out competing for now.
Don't tell Banksy I said that. I suspect she will LOVE competing. She is a full fledged drama queen and that is going to be her kind of drama.
Competing at entry level USA courses will possibly prove our downfall. We've been diligently training on our super hard twisty turny Slovenian euro courses. We have a long ways to go, but the tight backsides and tricky turns requiring a lot of collection are our thing. Big, wide open courses with basic turns, straight lines from speed into the poles, these are going to be a great show for the spectators who like to see some dramatic crash and burn, I predict.
Another thing to add to the training list.
Since my knee surgery, we've just been working on basics that can be done with a stationary handler. Dogwalk, teeter and poles has been the thing for a while. Handling around any type of course is still going to take me a while til I figure out if my legs are going to work.
I still don't even have any idea how big she is and how high she's going to jump.
Everyone that sees Banksy always says, "She's so tiny!" She looks huge to me. Her 25lbs feels like I'm lifting a whale when she doesn't want to jump in the car because she would prefer to stay somewhere and play. Coach Nancy measured her at 17.5" the other day. And a scooch under. The scooch under, if she stuck with it, could earn her a lower height in USDAA than I've been expecting, which would give her a lower a-frame. This would be awesomely rad, but I'm not holding my breath. We will train for 22", and if she ends up at 18", then a super duper bonus.
I guess in AKC she would jump 16" If she could squeak in under 18"? Not sure, have to look this up. Maybe we will do some AKC. That's a whole other universe. We don't really have an agility budget right now, so this all remains something to worry about in the future. For now, I am still dogwalk obsessed. Trialing can wait.
Anyways, happy birthday, Banksy. All this agility talk. No mention that she can actually do a photoshoot stay now. She stood there a long time with everyone while I was fumbling for my phone and looking for Gustavo and finding him a spot to sit on that didn't wrinkle his fur and getting him to look at the camera. He's a high maintenance photoshooter and Banksy stood there patiently the whole time. This, to me, says 15 months. Growing up fast!
by team small dog at 6:58 PM
08 May 2015
Since we lost our neighborhood field, I've been driving up the mountain to walk the dogs. Since we lost our ranch, we don't go South anymore, those walks have vanished from our lives. Poof. Like a vapor.
Our new life, what little there is of it, revolves around the North. And our usual walk around the field to the bluff, it's as if it was never there, vaporized is a word I am using a lot. For now I've been taking the dogs a little ways up the mountain. I don't know why, but with all the doors slamming lately, I've been heading on to the old logging roads. They're not pretty. They're private property.
The-or-et-ically...illegal. All the trees in there been ground up and spit out at various times since the 1800's. There are stacks of logs in there, maybe not professional cut, that look like last year. I get the sense in there that I could run into someone with a shotgun who prefers that we get out, now.
There's no good reason to walk in there, other than right now, trespassing on a desolate, chewed up forest, snaking around a tangle of steep, rutted old roads and holding my breath to what might be around the next corner, seems like the only solution I can think of.
One door shuts, then another one is supposed to open. The doors this year aren't just shutting with a little click. This is the year there is slamming. Keep your fingers close so you don't lose one.
A thing I have learned, at least. Even if you always think about the part of Reservoir Dogs when the guy cuts off the other guy's ear when you hear "Stuck in the Middle with You," other people might not. Super classic tunes like this, from the time of giant bell bottoms and odd shaped polyester blend tops, can come on the radio at any time now. And cutting off of ears isn't small talk, even if it seems perfectly reasonable to you.
You just dig a way deeper hole when you're all, "You know. Stealer's Wheel. Clowns to the left of you, jokers to the right. And they're slicing off the guy's ear?"
Probably this has happened to you, too. The nice girl you just said this to, in your effort of making banal chit chat during elevator music, to fill a quiet tiny gap in time, now has you marked as potential deranged person who is not who you were supposed to be, disguised as a faded middle aged lady with stains over your wrinkly shorts pockets where you usually keep the dog cookies.
She notes this in your chart.
At least I didn't try to dig out by hunching up my shoulders and growling, "Winter is coming," because I like to talk like Jon Snow sometimes.
I learned already that one doesn't work either.
My knee cap bone rubs on another knee bone, and 3 bones in my other ankle have deteriorated from grinding against each other for so long. Basically tiny little switch blades live in my legs and they are switched on whenever I take a step. This is how it is now. I test drove Gustavo around the agility the other night. Tried out one of the jumpers courses from world team tryouts wearing my bionic leg braces. We ran it twice and he was very happy but my knee and my ankle weren't and I made it around then walked off the field pretty crippled.
The dogs don't really care where we go, as long as we go and as long as we're together. It's not that big of deal to them if I walk really slow, they can go at the pace they need to and I'm always in the back.
"At least I am walking."
This is a thing I mutter to myself a lot. Looking down at the ground, that used to be my friend.
We creep across the meadow together, trying to not look like prey, then once we're in the woods, they can run some. My hope is that one of these days, some kind of good idea is going to hit me in there. How to get a door to open.
So far it hasn't. But I did find a big stump the other day. I thought I knew were all the big trees used to be, the ones that left their mark, but this is the biggest former tree that I've found in a long time. 4 big steps to get around each side, everybody has to walk with me through poison oak to measure it. Another new thing I'm learning. I lost my immunity to poison oak. So far this still doesn't stop me. That tree could have been 300 feet tall, taller than a skyscraper and hundreds and hundreds of years old before now long dead loggers felled it, and pulled it out with now long dead horses.
I have pictures of those guys, same beards as every tattooed checker guy at the market. The loggers have come back to work in grocery stores and ride skateboards down my street.
Just it's feet still left, lots of times those big old stumps didn't get pulled out, so they stayed for their babies to grow up around them, little redwoods ready to get cut again. This time, not by skateboarding retail clerks. Not sure who, now. Maybe loggers are someone you didn't even know that's what they'd be.
I can't take Gary in there to see it, he's on crutches now. At least he's still working. The dogs are the only ones with good legs. Most of them, at least. For now. Things happen to us and we're not usually ready when they do. This is totally a fact I am down with. We're all ready for that new door to open. Many people believe in this as a fact, I know because they tell me this all the time. It's a fact, they say. One door shuts and another one opens. Somehow they have proof of this fact, all the givers of advices, so I'm out there looking for the door.
I can't quite find it, though, this door they're telling me about. Only a really big stump. If I'm supposed to be looking for a stump, wouldn't they have said that? That potential perks me up, because I have mad skilz of stump finding.
One door shuts so then you find a stump? Best I can do. I still got feet, they just don't work so good. I still have a little work. That stump is still there and we know how to get there now. I still got all my dogs. Banksy can do a running a-frame and Ruby can follow me around and Gustavo sits on my lap and I carry Otterpop under my arm most places like a dirty purse dog with ground down teeth.
"Close the door and there's the stump."
Maybe a new thing to remember not to say out loud in public. But you'll know that's what I'm thinking.
by team small dog at 8:20 AM
03 May 2015
01 May 2015
photo courtesy of the Banksy who is not a dog.
We lost our field this week. It's rotten and it sucks, but when you're not a landowner this is what happens and you can either go down with a fight (see much of teamsmalldog.com circa 2006-2008 from the last time our neighborhood field got took away) or you can just move on.
There was a protest. It did not include looting or setting anything on fire. A handful of quiet, gray haired people walked over from the mobile home next door with some labradoodles and a couple of chihuahuas. In their loose fitting pants and floppy sun hats, they sat outside the extremely clean picture windows of the oceanside meeting room where the ginormous building project and the changes to the animal policy for the field were being discussed and chatted in the sun.
I sat inside and took notes. It was clear in this scenario who would be the winner and who would be the loser. Clear to me anyway. I took good notes just the same.
At some point, a protestor with one of those wicker visors that offer extra wide sun protection taped a poster to the window with easy to remove blue masking tape that said something about animals and nature and people co-existing. She made sure to untape it after the meeting.
They brought water for their dogs in a little plastic bowl, and sat there, just outside, while the building plan was outlined. When it was over, one of them brought in a stack of petitions asking that they reconsider the new policy of no dogs allowed. It was one I signed last week. Everybody did. The squat, sour faced Chancellor of Risk and Safety Services, running the meeting in her shapeless gray pantsuit accepted them, saying, Thank you Ma'am, then probably tossed them into the recycle bin on the way out.
The same Chancellor, who reminds me of a faded military boss, squarely cut hair lined up with squarely set jaw, deployed faux cops this week into the field. Nervous looking pairs of students with police radios and navy blue polo shirts were on patrol, tasked with being who has to start kicking out the dogs.
I could see them coming from far off. I thought I had moved on, but I just wanted to walk the dogs out to the bluff in the field by my house. Not so much to ask. Just this One. More. Time. Because right by my house. And where I have walked my dogs since I've had dogs, since before the buildings, since before labradoodles were even a thing. Since before a lot of things were things.
We stood in the path, taking our time, listening to birds and traffic sounds, watching them make their way up to us. The dogs didn't care. They were just on a walk.
The boy approached me, "Are these your dogs? he asked.
"Are you talking to me? I answered, "About these dogs?" gesturing around me at all four.
Blind and quiet Ruby standing by my leg. She can't see past my leg so that's where she stays. This is her best walk ever. A straight line to the cliff, she has done this walk for all of her 15 years, so many times, in rain and sun and wind and fog. Down and back to the cliff.
At Otterpop who just took a dump. I am holding her shit in a plastic wheat bread bag.
At Gooey who is sniffing some weeds and frolicking alone, the way he does.
At Banksy who is being a border collie and who is coming over now because The People Are Her Best FRIENDS! but then she is off because there are some weeds and some grass and she is over there then she's over there.
"These dogs," he points around, vaguely. "Are these your dogs?"
I approach the faux cops even closer than they approach me. The boy seems nervous, the girl is smiling. She's short, he's tall. How old you have to be to be a junior cop?
"Why do you ask? Because I don't believe we've met. I'm Laura. And you are?"
I stick out my hand. The one not holding dog shit in a bread bag.
The boy does all the talking. He has a lot of pimples and a hair cut that is either really ironic, or it was done like that by someone's mistake. He seems like a nice boy. He doesn't shake my hand.
He explains that he's an ambassador to the police and it's his job to inform people blah blah blah blah blah. It's about the dogs. Today is the day this begins. I listen to his script. I tell them both it must be a hard job to have to kick people out who have walked their dogs exactly here in this spot every day since before they were even born. I smile at the girl. She smiles back. There really isn't that much left to say. We tell each other to have a nice day, me and the girl and the boy. I'm glad they don't have guns. Just radios, that call, who? The real cops that have the guns?
Nobody is going to shoot nobody out here over walking some dogs. I guess. Cops aren't supposed to do shit like that.
It's fine. The bulldozers have already started. There's a big yellow backhoe parked where the grease weed used to grow. The birds sounded sad last time I was there just past dawn. There are roads to build and parking lots to pave and huge sparkly buildings and pathways and stairs and landscaping and labs and light posts and lights and things that this field needs. The dogs, they disrupt the nature, a particular type red legged frog. And I guess some kind of turtle. And native grass. I think these are the foxtails. So they can't be there. But the buildings can.
So then we left and I took the dogs over to the pond down the road and even though it was cold I threw some sticks for Banksy and she had a nice swim. And we went over to the soccer field by the skateboard park, and some gangster kids with a german shepherd watched Banksy and Otterpop and Gustavo do stays and their tricks and run fast after the ball. Ruby can't go there. It's too wide open for a dog who can't see and too much chance for potential mean dogs.
I hope the protesters keep at it. They are a nice lot, hoping that they can save the field for how it used to be. Some of them are living in that mobile home park til they die and that field's their back yard. For me, I'm done with it and a big lesson I've learned by now in my life is don't mess with the cops, even if they're the junior kind without any guns. It's not us that call the shots. We're the ones that lose. We've been told to make adjustments to better align our actions with our goals for the tangible benefits. That's a shitty thing to say, but it's a real thing that they told us. Whatever. We've had to move along before. So off we go again.
by team small dog at 9:13 PM
One place where we walk, for a week there was a little orange cat collar with a little orange bell laying there. There was a little foot there next to it, and another patch of something with some fur. It looked a little flat. It layed there for a week or so, little foot and little collar and I always told the dogs to leave it. Sometimes I moved the collar back on top of the foot every time it moved away some. Then one day it was all gone.
RIP, little cat that wore that collar. The path will still be there, though.
One place where we walk, for a long time it was a path that just went from the road down to a cliff. We would walk down it to the bluff and walk back up and we would go here almost every day. The path is in a big field where there's a bunch of birds and rabbits and a bunch of buildings over on the side for the UC. Then one day the UC says, the building is starting for all the new stuff, and all you dogs are getting out now will stay out forever after that.
The UC said it a lot more fancy than that, a lot more bullshit about how all the buildings and roads and new bus lines and loads of people coming on with tractors and pavers and then eventually loads of people in cars and buses coming over forever after that to use the buildings is more restoring it to native grasses than the one little path still having some dogs on it. There's always a lot of fancy bullshit.
RIP, whale skeletons field by my house. No more path to walk on. Last open space in my neighborhood. We'll miss you loads and think of you fondly. A lot.
by team small dog at 7:09 AM
29 April 2015
I'm not sure how all this happened, but it sort of did.
We both have a long way to go. Banksy still has lots of learning to do, and I still have a lot of work to get my knee and my weirdo ankle from medium speed hobble-trotting back to fast running.
So that's what we're doing.
by team small dog at 9:24 PM
24 April 2015
Click-n-print. Collect them all! And it's like you're in my brain.
Maybe you can put this in yer phone, a lot of good information. For every winner, there are gonna be a lot of losers and some of these losers might just be you. Don't worry though. I am here for you.
by team small dog at 8:29 AM
22 April 2015
Stays are a thing. Number one importance is not moving during a photoshoot. Number two importance not moving and going apeshit when the other dogs are running around during dog agility. Number three importance staying on your rug, couch or tuffet when I'm making dinner. And number four importance not moving off the dog agility startline.
These aren't all the numbers. But they are a top four.
Pretty much these are all hooked together. In my stay numbers, some are way better than others. Otterpop has amazing photoshoot and other dogs doing things stays. However she will sneak off the couch prison when I'm not looking. I never did make her stay on an agility startline ever because of the horribleness of other dogs nearby. Gustavo CANNOT BARELY HARDLY stay in a photoshoot. However agility startline, frequently awesome. At least always entertaining. And he hides under the bed when I make dinner usually because he believes there to be awful sounds and the stove makes fire, so that one doesn't count. Ruby does not stay anymore! Ever!
Banksy has worked VERY HARD to have stays. We are getting photoshoots and it is so very sad I have lost my camera and have to use my stupid phone camera for them. We have the rug in my house however this does not translate at all to anyone else's house especially not Laura J's beach house. And the dogs running around stay with no apeshits? Does not exist, whatsoever. A work in progress.
Her stay that is doing goooood? Dog agility startline stay. It's where I've put the value, apparently. So far, is her easiest stay. This is a bright note in the training of the Banksy. Hopefulness for the someday laying quietly on the field not moving or throwing a fit at all when another dog is having a turn. Hopefulness for this in maybe 7-10 years.
For excellent start line stays, if you are wanting an awesome online class that isn't too spendy and is very fun and loads of personal attention once you figure out how to upload the selfie videos you are going to make of yourself practicing your very fun class exercises, you should take Tammy Moody's Fun From the Start Class. Brought to you by the Oregon School for Clever Dogs.
I have been to Oregon and ALL the dogs there had the most awesome agility skills and perfect stays. Tammy knows what she is doing. She will help you! She helped us! Take Tammy's class, it's starting VERY SOON! I think you will likey.
by team small dog at 9:34 AM
17 April 2015
Perhaps you are in my running dogwalk class. We like to saw RDW in our class. It's our very own secret code. We have this instead of a handshake.
Our teacher lives in Slovenia, and everybody has a girl crush on her. She looks like Kate Moss (uh, '90's supermodel gone bad-gone-good-gone-rich reference) and she has loads of dogs and is like the quadruplest world super champion of dog agility. She is nice. She is my most favorite teacher of ever.
Her whole job is to try to teach us how to teach our dogs to run super fast over the planky thingamajig of dog agility and make sure their feet touch down securely in the yellow bits on the ends.
My classmates live in Denmark, Zimbabwe, Austria, Brazil, Serbia, Holland, Luxembourg, Australia, Hungary, Finland, Norway, Germany, Poland, Estonia, South Africa, Sweden, New Zealand, Switzerland, Singapore, Canada, Spain, England, France, Czech Republic, Peru, Italy, Scotland, USA and Slovenia.
I'm not sure if the Slovenians get to go to the teacher's house for a party at the end.
You take the class by getting a video camera and setting it on a box or a tripod or a tree every time you practice and remembering to turn it on. You have to learn how to plug your camera into the computer and get the movie out and get it in slow motion all clipped up and get it in the internet for Silvia to watch in her computer in her totally adorable house in the beautiful Slovenian countryside. Silvia's job is to sit and watch hundreds of videos of slow motion dogs running across planks every day.
This is a little bit of a weird job but she's really good at it.
So to do the class, you have to make your dogs some planks to run on. No matter what country you live in, you either need your very own agility garden (we call backyards gardens in everywhere else in the world) in your front or back yard, or you have to borrow a garden. Or a hall. We call agility places with walls halls in everywhere else in the world. This is where you'll put your planks.
This is really, really hard. Except for some people that have a really good garden or hall already. Most of us don't so a lot of class is setting up a garden somewhere in a field or on a roadside or near the mountains or in front of some apartments. Or driving to a hall.
Lots of the class is dealing with the garden and the hall issue. Good luck with that.
Once you have your hall or garden, stuff you can make planks out of include chairs, wood, crates, rugs, boxes, plastic stuff, cardboard, tables, sandbags, bricks, blocks, and rocks. Hopefully you have this stuff in your garden! You are gonna get really good at making planks! Because you start with your planks low and it takes a long time to stack up and build a very nice bridge out of your stuff.
Please don't let your planks be too wobbly! Although I have noticed, many dogs in other countries other than mine don't care if the planks wobble. USA dogs may be wobble sissies.
Someday in your future of planks, you will want a real dogwalk. I am very, very lucky to use my friend Kathleen's at her garden! She has a very nice garden with trees, and best of all, with a lovely dogwalk with rubbery skin.
In terms of dogwalks, this is a good thing to have.
So to get your dog actually running on your planks, you will need to be an excellent ball thrower. I cannot even elaborate on this huge bummer of a life skill that I do not have. I have no words. I suck at ball throwing and this fact affects my dog agility training.
With me so far? So far you have had to learn to build stuff, take videos, edit videos, upload videos, and now throw balls. And probably, unless your dog belongs to one of my other RDW friends, Banksy's frenemy forever, Kirk, your dog is a long way from learning to run over the boards with their feet securely plopping down on the yellow parts.
Here is a video example of now this might look:
Yes, this is a 6 minute video of one dog chasing a ball in slow motion over some planks!
I have approxmately 30 of these videos. Maybe more. I'm afraid to count.
You might notice that I never run. This is because I had knee surgery! I will tell you something hard to do. Train a dog to run over some planks when you personally can't run! Not a good idea, I will tell you right now.
Our class isn't done. Pretty much, Banksy has learned to almost hit the yellow a lot of the time but not if I don't do a good job of throwing the ball and definitely not if I don't throw the ball or try to use the red rubber ball instead of the tennis ball and not if I don't put on the rug. And not always with her RF.
This is secret code for rear feet.
She likes to hit a lot with FF.
Secret code for front feet.
She is good at extension. This means running so damn fast yer legs splay out far. Frequently too good. There are rdw remedies for this which I seek daily.
This is not the first time I have trained a RDW. Me and my friend the robot trained Gustavo's. It was hard and took years and it may have made me stomp my feet sometimes and bang my head against a fence post. So I am very used to the sadmaking that RDW gives me a lot of the time. But I am very excited when it gives me the happiness of RF running through the yellow. Banksy is pretty happy all the time because there is always a tennis ball flying around at some point. This is like her favorite thing to do, ever.
Has she learned a RDW yet? Um, no. I think I am actually not the greatest teacher of this, even though I have learned to throw a ball totally better than when I started and have good ideas of building things that stack up planks without anything wobbling.
For now, if you're looking for me, try Kathleen's garden, I might be down there on her field, trying to get Banksy to run her back feet through some yellow paint. There's a good chance that's where you'll find me.
by team small dog at 11:25 AM
15 April 2015
Here is a list of things you might see if you have all 4 dogs, and you are in the narrow alley, and one of the dogs is pooping:
The skateboarder guy going by with the fast running pitbull pulling him.
Uh oh, look out, here comes the asshat barking shihtzu attached to the tiny grandma's walker.
Oh, and here comes the homeless guy with the 1980's boombox blasting from the top of his stuff!
And that would be a cat.
Coming up from behind is the street washing truck, right up to the edge of the alley. They need to get that edge REALLY clean.
The wild boxer with his balls is also loose again.
It is inevitable. Hang on tight. Cuz ain't nothin' you can do about it right now.
by team small dog at 5:33 PM
10 April 2015
For Banksy's 14 month old birthday she stayed in the house with Gustavo all day, listening to reggae then a talk show then I believe alternative world beat jazz. Her new hobby is that she is becoming a stay at home dog because my work situation has had a dramatic new twist that involves, no dogs.
She is weirdly, surprisingly, bizarrely super good at this, so Banksy and Gustavo or Banksy and Ruby or Banksy and Ruby and Gustavo hang out listening to the radio and sleeping on the couch all day. I guess. Not sure what they do. By all appearances nothing naughty's happening. Just dog chillin'. This would have been the last thing I thought Banksy could ever do. But Banksy likes to prove me wrong.
I believe an Aquarian trait.
And Otterpop goes with me. Ahem.
We are running dogwalking it a lot, although I am just walking somewhat faster than before. Banksy enjoys to do things really fast. I believe this is an Aquarian trait. Also to be a control freak, to a large extent. Banksy would like 4 strides on the dogwalk and I would prefer to see 5 and this is what we grapple with, many videos and start jump placements and Silvia consultations and we are working it out.
Banksy may be one of those dogs that breaks the weave poles. She loves to wack them very hard as she barrels through. Banksy no likey the 2x2 method so we are still closing up the channels and off she goes. Banksy is a do-er. Aquarians get shit done.
Due to my no running status she has learned various agility party tricks that may help someday with Gamblers Qs, but may totally screw us all the time as well. Time will tell. Banksy loves agility. She loves it so much that she still has the major apeshits at 14 months old but we work on it. We work on it. We work on it.
She has to wear underpants for agility still, and please do not tell Banksy but she is totally getting spayed in a couple of months. Probably exactly when I can start running again. There is not a lot of fun to be had when you have a girl dog in heat and every place you like to roam involves boy coyotes or boy dogs with balls roaming free exactly adjacent to where we'd like to frolic and play. Every time it's walk time it's a paranoia filled adventure of keeping out of sight of any potential canine type with balls, which is every dog, anywhere and everywhere. Walks are stealth and sneaky and fast and infrequent.
Life is no happy white pants maxi pad commercial for Banksy.
She has no opinion that I can tell, whether the basic black panties are nicer than the pink and grey polka dot ones. There is no favorite. Both look like a dog wearing underpants with a giant fluffy tail sticking out of a hole, and this is not a good look, ever, for any dog in the history of dog underpants. We are hoping this means her growth plates are closing and her hormones are happy and our lives can go back to normal soon.
Aquarians need to swim and there is a big pitbull with balls that hangs out at the pond, so Aquarius, you genius that borders on insanity, you, we will go for a swim soon. Ish.
by team small dog at 8:37 AM
07 April 2015
by team small dog at 9:51 PM
Google images helped me splain what Otterpop's emergency doc reported to me on the phone the yesterday.
After showing her films to the Radiologist, he found two places in her spine, one up by her neck and one down by her tail, that were too squishy. The disc is smashy and this is probably what is hurting her back because smashy discs don't make nerves feel nice.
And her liver is very teensy tiny. Even for a teensy tiny Otterpop.
Otterpop would just like to come out of the crate. She can be carefully lifted on to the couch, and slowly walked a little ways up the block. She got to see the mail lady yesterday, who was also walking up the block and she still would like to BITE the mail lady. So this seems positive! The mail lady dropped our mail on the grass and took off. Even though Otterpop was on a leash, this much is hatred of the mail lady. She's a nice mail lady, Otterpop just no likey anyone to enter our property.
Otterpop also no likey to do anything slow, so this is not happy times for her. But I do think she seems less painful, so the drugs and rest are working. Please get well soon, Otterpop. We need you.
by team small dog at 8:24 AM
06 April 2015
05 April 2015
Otterpop would totally say Happy Easter if she wasn't shivering in the back of a crate jonesing on tramadol. Oh wait. Oh no she wouldn't. Because she's Otterpop. She'd probably tell you to go shove that rock hard happy egg right up your you know what.
Her condition is one the kind emergency vet called Painful Chihuahua. When your little dog comes in screaming in pain and the xray shows just a bunch of arthritis down the spine but probably, really, there's a disc out of wack or a nerve pinched or who knows what. Only your painful chihuahua.
Best diagnosis without some spendy MRI and more expansively expensive prodding and poking, is heavy drugs and locked in a crate to see if it goes away. I think Otterpop don't mind sliding away to those drugs. The locked in a crate sucks eggs. She's doing her best sleeping right here right now on the sunshiney part of the day and will probably do her best Painful Chihuahua tearjerking in the middle of the night again.
Lunar eclipse? Jesus crucifix complex? Diabolical effort to thwart moving day of the shred that's left of my business? Goddamn you, Otterpop. Whatever happened to Otterpop totally blows in a grande way. Where I go, Otterpop goes and shit like this don't happen to Otterpop. Only it did.
by team small dog at 5:15 PM
29 March 2015
I believe that we left off at the goat invasion and grape sized bone fragments yanked out of a kneehole. If you really want to cut to the chase, because teamsmalldog is super good at that, the punchline is that the intuitive equestrienne life coach told me to make a collage, because visualization is important for life goals and aspirations in a time of transition. It is like the Secret! Remember that? You visualize the million dollars or the new bike and then, voila, life goes EXACTLY how you saw it in the movie?
So here we go.
Historically, Otterpop has functioned as a ranch dog. She enjoys spending her time lounging around, barking out orders, and riding the tractor.
Then she met the weed man. He decided to turn the ranch into a fancy, yet somewhat legal indoor pot farm. There would be homey touches such as steel doors and a police dog. And oodles and oodles of pot!
Here are some terms that Otterpop learned during this time. Medical. Cannabis. Sherriff. Attorney.
Banksy, being a border collie, was all, wait, isn't Medical Cannabis really just a Drug Business?
The weed man became very cross indeed when she pointed out this discrepancy in his business plan. Seemed obvious to Banksy. Banksy got very scared, and tried to run away into the road. Then she got scared by flying helicopters and tried to run away down a cliff. Then she got very scared by a bike and tried to run away to the pond. The she got very scared every time she heard traffic noises because apparently she thought the weed man was a traffic helicopter about to land in a pond.
Gustavo was sitting on the couch on his little soft blanket! He was all, I love my little blanket!
Ruby, in her sensible shoes with a paunch we will call charming, just kept on keeping on. She put her pointy, little nose to the ground and sniffed. She had eternal hope that this repetitive action would one day earn her a piece of dirty ham. She liked it that life was moving very slowly all the time because crappy swollen surgery knees have only one speed and this speed is so very slow.
This speed bump was too effing slow for Otterpop. So she joined the Pinkerton Detective Agency for a life of fighting crime, just like her friend Steve Buscemi of Boardwalk Empire and his theme song by the awesome Brian Jonestown Massacre. Because you know what Otterpop likes? Carrying a bat. So this seemed like a great idea. Wielding a big fat stick.
So far, nothing in this story would never happen to her. She has bohemian chic.
Which sounds like a disease, but it isn't! You know what is? The super awful horse plague. The super awful horse plague arrived in the winds of change and the horse died. There was a lot of boo hoo hoo and then there was a horse quarantine because of the dangerous awful plague germs.
This made everyone hate Gustavo. Who could ever hate Gustavo? Ha! Everybody!
Banksy got even more scared and made freaky crazy eyes, like ALL THE TIME. Luckily Otterpop, being in the business of private law enforcement, was of strong mind and body to stay on high alert round the clock to make sure no satanic germs got on any other horses. There was a lot of bleach. Handwashing. Sticking thermometers into horse butts around the clock. Because who doesn't want a clock made of horse butts?
Ruby kept walking around in circles. Sometimes she would bump into Banksy and this scared Banksy some more and she would go snap snap snap with her snapping teeth. Then Ruby was all, boo hoo hoo, too. Ruby ain't no flippin' helicopter, but there's no reasoning once a border collie goes kinda freaky.
Then the whole ranch was very sad because of the weed man and the germs, so all the horses and their horse people decided to fly away to far off lands. The land of rainbow unicorns! No germs! No weed! Except teamsmalldog only got the unicorn socks, no real rainbow unicorns.
This is called losing your shirt. Otterpop doesn't even wear shirts and she totally lost hers. But luckily, Banksy got to start wearing underpants! You know what makes a freaky border collie even more extra freaky? Underpants time!
Then Ruby almost bumped into 3, count em 3, full sized coyotes! Gustavo was all, maybe we should have kept sitting on the couch? He said this with a smie on his face. Gustavo never, ever complains and wins the medal in this department. Just that, when he smiles his tongue falls out the side of his mouth because he has no teeth. Otterpop was on a leash for 3 coyotes! Banksy wasn't wearing her underpants! Even though there's no running on crappy, former knees, there was running! But nobody died.
OK. So there you have it. If you are still looking for team small dog after all that, you can probably find us all curled up in a ball under the couch. With the dust bunny carcasses of former tennis balls and Kurt Cobain's ghost, pondering when it became a thing for every single hipster dad with toddlers in my neighborhood to have a bushy beard and a meth guy wide brim ball cap. I'll be busy reviewing these facts to see what muthatruckin' transformational process future they reveal.
If you are a soothsayer and you already know, stick your message in a bottle and huck it out to sea. Or stick it in the wish tree. I'll get back with you shortly.
Over and out til then, yer pals, laura & teamsmalldog
by team small dog at 3:48 PM