Did you ever dream that you were a dog agility super champ except then it switched and you were at some germy, grungy, derelict seaside park in the dark and the carnies were actually drug addled zombies that were shambling after you with hammers and their big teeth? And then as you're trying to escape your way out from under their oily, horrible claws by clambering up a rat infested palm tree, you're all, this is about dog agility like, how?
23 January 2013
Woozy, emo sadmaking ode to the teeter totter.
So in class the other night, Gustavo raced around a couple of sequences. Raced up on that teeter and slammed it just like he's seen on tv. Ran fast and ran clean. We were having a great time.
Then, he couldn't do the teeter anymore. Scared him. And couldn't race quite as fast. Something didn't feel right. Even though it did before. Last week, last night, it was all ok.
At Santa Rosa, just once did we go near the teeter totter. In Team Standard, it was the third obstacle in. Jump-jump-teeter. Very simple.
He ran right up it. I was stoked. He looked happy, and then, poof. He didn't. He ran just past the tip point, and he stopped, then turned right around. It was sad. It didn't seem to phase him though. I called him back and we got back into the groove and ran the rest of the course, albeit with an E.
Not a lot of things make Gustavo sad. Being left at home. Lighters and matches. Fireworks and gun noises. The snapping sound a longe whip makes. Big dogs that stare at him. Buses.
And teeter totters.
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Gracie is feeling your emo teeter pain, Gustavo. We had a sho and go last weekend with a cushy, posh, quiet teeter, and everything was cool, super-cool, even. Then class this week, and regular bangy, monster teeter reduced her to paranoid, jumpy freakout dog again. P.S. I think you would make a lovely Cosette, assuming you can sing that high... Gracie is Margaret Yang. Super cute, geeky and you think she's got it all together, but it turns out she faked the results....
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