Yesterday, two out of three members of Team Small Dog came down with the violent barfs at work and spent an evening of writhing pain. They're ok today. I suspect the cause may have been when I saw them both dashing by me on the beach with crabs dangling out of their mouths. Day before, Gustavo freak out bolted out of my yard and spent an hour running insano loopazoid around my neighborhood until he settled down, recognized me, not the Lord Jesus, not Nigel Tufnel, not all the helpful people that saw a quick black fox dash around the corner, as his savior and gave up the chase.
In honor of 11/11/11, in honor of taking 2 entire days of work off in a row, today I'm packing up barfers, bolters, good dogs, toothbrushes, jammies, dog medicine and my own bedding to spend a night in a cheap motel and do 2 whole days of agility. OK. Not whole days. Can't afford to enter 2 whole days, and my dogs can't run very many classes anyways, but a couple classes each day at Turlock USDAA. Dunno if our agility goes up to 11. Honestly, I'd settle for 7.
Team Small Dog. Not even the Spinal Tap of the agility world. The limping, barfing, jigging Stonehenge dwarves of the agility world. On the road in true rockstar fashion. See you there!
1 comment:
Good luck!
and remember. Don't toss the dwarfs. They do NOT like it. :)
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