Nightlife, as defined by a dog agility lifestyle.

I used to like to hang out in bars. Or work late in my studio. Go out to the movies. But now, nightlife usually means dog class.

Tuesday nights, I head over the mountain to the far off country of San Jose for my class with Nancy up on another mountain. We drive up and down a mountain, drop down into Silicon Valley, and up the side of another to get to class. There are deer and raccoons that need to be avoided. Treacherous mountain roads. Traffic jams. Cops. All in the name of getting to class.

Wednesday nights, I leave work as fast as I can to get to Dirt Nite on time. It's not too far from my work, and there's a Starbucks on the way. But I have to get there in time to pull the equipment from a trailer, set it up, and then teach beginning agility students until I get to take a late night class from Rob. There are owls that fly around above our heads. And sometimes coyotes howling. At the end of it all, the equipment has to get drug back out of the arena and put away before we drive back home at about 10.

Luckily, what I wear to work is pretty much what everybody wears to agility. I could add a cute little vintage beaded cardigan if I wanted to, to spice up those jeans and paddock boots for evening, but, you know. It would get all filthy and maybe a hole in it and would just end up hidden under a fleece jacket, so, why bother? Agility is dirty. My job is dirty. It all just blends together into one big dusty and dirty ensemble by the end of the day.

So what did we work on in our nightlife this week?

Tuesday night we discriminated. Otterpop and Gustavo both have very discriminating taste, and did a good job. Otterpop flew around in all her awesomeness, and Gustavo had a very good weave pole night. Not so great for teeter totters, or barking during class. Steering issues here and there. He is trying hard. We try hard together. In the hopes of one day achieving awesomeness.

Wednesday night, Gustavo's wheels fell off for a while. Ker plunk. Dogwalk contacts, dicey. Hard pole entries, weak. Although the teeter totter, once again his friend. He's hard to predict, my little buddy. Otterpop ran a bit and was smoking, she has been oozing awesomeness lately and running like a champ. Rob brought Soja for me to run. She is possessed and insane and this makes for super fun to run, although it can be nerve wracking to run a dog you are terrified of crashing through things so there is no room for poor handling. I fell ass over tea kettle on a tricky threadle with her, and luckily hadn't picked out any fancy evening to wear. Denim, just so practical when you run the risk of being run over by a speeding Terv and pummeled into the dirt.

By the end of 2 wild nights on the town, I am limping, have a bloody hand, and clothes that need to be removed on the back stoop. My neck has a crick and my knee's a bit wonky and my back's stiffening up, maybe from landing square on my ass or just because I'm old and ride horses all day. Nothing hurt at the time, never does. Instead of downing some aspirin to fight a tomorrow morning hangover, I throw a handful of advils down my gullet with grapefruit juice. Straight up, hold the vodka.

The bars don't close til 2. I get home from dog night's after 10. I guess there's still time to go out. Except who do I even know anymore that likes to hang out in bars? All the stuff I have to do to run my life means I get up way before the sun, and that's not all that many hours of sleep. Champions need their beauty rest, and the dogs like to get to the beach before work. Dog agility nightlife? Honestly, just as much fun as the old kind.