Back to old skook Dirt Nite.

We are back to Dirt Nite how it's supposed to be. With Rob teaching the advanced class. Not me. Because I lead us into rear cross nightmares that we can't necessarily dig out of by 10pm and need to be muzzled.

Last night we ended the night with a Gamble. This is at about a quarter past 9pm. No amount of iced skinnyvanillalattes guzzled down beforehand adequately prepares one for doing Gambles at that time of night. Unless you are Bill Compton, vampire with the best accent ever. Although I think vampires are not allowed to run dogs. Some kind of trouble with werewolves or shapeshifters or what have you.

My gambler's prowess resulted in Gustavo now being afraid of the closed tunnel. Good going. Moving on. Then I ran it with Hobbes. Who has a LAA Platinum and some obscene amount of Gamblers Q's that is one of the highest of any dog, ever. Ever. Like a monkey can run him in Gamblers if a monkey can name basic nouns such as tunnel or climb. I think most monkeys can do that. My turn running the gamble, abject failure. Moving on.

We did have some good runs, all the dogs and I. Had I brought Otterpop back out of the car for the Gambler's portion of the evening, I know I could have gotten it with her because it's one in her database. She is the only one used to my spazzy arm waving and speaking in tongues with moving about and whatever it is I do that causes Hobbes to go out into the weave poles and miss the tunnel and Gustavo to just plain old forget HOW to do the chute tunnel and then have a little meltdown and that's how it went.

I still love Dirt Nite anyways.