It’s a sight to see. Usually, a huge bearded man and a tiny Chihuahua. Sometimes a blue-haired lady and a miniature poodle with pastel bows on her ears. They’re both holding their dog like a baby cradled in their arms. I’m not gonna repeat the inhospitable thoughts I have had about that sort of person and that sort of dog. The best reason to bite your tongue is that karma return sucks. So it was when Jolene was sitting on my lap and then, with no warning, she flung her nose up and tipped back. I barely caught her before a backflip dismount. It was a death-defying statement of trust. Startled, I put my hand on her chest to stabilize her, and she crossed her paws over mine. I always have three emotions at once with this dog.
We’ve signed up for our first scentwork trial. Jolene has rocked class lately. I’m still struggling, but Jolene doesn’t care. Besides, in Affirmative Training, everyone is a winner. At the end of class, the humans debrief. Usually Jolene barks because she hates standing around while humans yammer on. She’s an adolescent all right. She paces and flirts with the boys. I pulled her onto my lap as a kind of detention. She went nose up and fell back against my arm, her new favorite position. Then her eyes closed. Her body was dead weight, and she had a toothy grin. Did I hear her say, mesmerize me like a chicken?
It’s not that Mister doesn’t have skills of his own. Before he came, they warned me he excelled at barking at children. When our friend Ady was over to play ball, Jolene ran for joy and Mister barked for almost two solid hours with the breath control of a classical tenor.
Mister has another skill he would like to brag about. He takes drugs. Not that it’s hard for a dog to figure out that humans eat treats, too. They come in childproof pill jars. Ha! said Mister, as he made off with a three-month supply of hyaluronic acid capsules. This gray mare will tell you hyaluronic acid is the best thing for arthritis, opening up joints I thought would be frozen forever.
They came in a big jar, so it was a major score. Mister went out back and unscrewed lid, as one does. However, they were not fish-flavored, not meat-flavored, and had not one grain of sugar. Absolutely inedible. Instead, he spread the little white capsules all over the ground, giving my muddy, grass-free yard the quirky ambiance of a crack house. For the record, I certainly don’t leave my pills out in plain sight. My bank account is still singing blues from the emergency ibuprofen event three years ago. Of course, my pills are up high and out of reach. Mister’s special gift is a deviously brilliant mind for crime. He moved my office chair across the room and jumped up to the second level on my desk. It’s a shame there isn’t a sport for taking drugs.
Mister would like you to know it’s been a rough week. Jolene resolved the problem of his snarky behavior every time he gets to the ball before her. The solution is to be even quicker, snatching and sprinting back to me. He’s mad at her for being fast and smart. Mad that his snark failed. To make it worse, she didn’t apologize or back down. She reminds me of someone, but I will avoid anthropomorphizing. Mister looks at me with imperfect, woeful eyes. I let him order a Fun Police uniform with gold epaulets, not the Jolene cares.
Such opposites. Mister doesn’t like touch, and Jolene thrives on it. Mister is a curmudgeon. Jolene wants adventure. I walk the line, trying to give each of them preferential treatment. I put Jolene in the backyard and gave Mister a new bully stick chewy. The expensive kind. Then I slip outside. Jolene rears up on her hind legs when she sees me, landing with her front paws out, then scraping her nails backward, kicking dirt onto her belly. She does it three times fast, like making a wish. And we’re off.
An hour later, we turned into a driveway, and all the sheep came to the fence to scrutinize us. After I signed my paperwork, I asked the trainer to wear my remote mic. While we waited, I heard the trainer’s soft voice, giving one-word cues. Her dog ever so politely pulled three ewes out of a group of a dozen and into an adjoining pen.
I handed Jolene’s leash over. At first, she was nervous. There were woolies on three sides, and I had stepped out of view. With encouragement, Jolene moved in a tiny circle around the trainer, with the sheep fanning out ahead of her. She was confused, barking to let us know she was only pretending to be brave. If you weighed twenty pounds, you might reconsider, too.
The trainer told Jolene she was good and asked her to kindly stop barking, which she did. Then she asked Jolene to try again, and something clicked. An ancient instinct found its purpose. Jolene trotted out wide, circling to the right, pushing the sheep ahead of her. Later, the trainer explained that she and the sheep were now in a bubble together, and Jolene, on a long lead, was moving on the outside of the bubble. Intensely focused, despite the line of wooly railbirds glaring at her. She didn’t push too hard or fast. No panic, just a natural respect between dog and sheep. The trainer said, that’ll do, and Jolene sat down.
They came out for a break. Then in with the sheep one more time. She barked briefly and then shook hard. The trainer waited as Jolene calmed down, saying she was processing. Exactly what I would’ve said about a horse who stretched their neck and shook their poll. Jolene pushed with quiet confidence this time.
Jolene was with the sheep for two short sessions, less than five minutes each. It was an hour’s drive one way. The trainer compared herding dogs to cutting horses and said horse people catch on really quick. Then the trainer told me she wasn’t taking on any new clients. She said if she gets too many clients at once, she gets a little testy. All I could do was smile. I knew exactly what she meant.
At the end, the trainer was standing there with her Aussie at her feet. I was standing a couple of steps away with Jolene sitting calmly by mine. The trainer said Jolene was a nice dog. Big praise from a stoic trainer. Something felt like coming home to both of us.
The Westminster Dog Show was this week. I know the critical rants about cropping and docking. Rescue dogs versus ethical breeders. Westminster isn’t all manicured paws and hair product. There are politics and backstabbing scandals. It’s a stir-fry of judgment and passion. But there were also smiling judges who loved the dogs and junior handlers living the dream. At the end, when a calmly elegant Doberman won Best in Show, all the competitors with all their dogs congratulated the winner in a mob of hugs and applause.
Dog people are as crazy as horse people in the classic battle of cruelty and kindness. Choosing to celebrate the big wins, along with the small victory of a young dog coming into her own, doesn’t mean you can’t see the dark. The herding trainer praised the good and ignored the rest, just like I tell my clients. We won’t make our point by constant muckraking and sowing cynicism in our hearts along the way. We win by being quick and smart. By focusing on the job, and not being dragged into a bickerfest older than the stars. We do all we can, but we must also dine on joy and let hate starve alone.
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Your last paragraph is brilliant and I am going to print it and put it on my refrigerator. Thank you.
Also, I love love love your adventures with your dogs!
Thank you, Jane. Mister wonders if you have treats for him.
While a young adolescent, I was charged with completing AKC championship confirmation for my Shetland Sheepdog “Joe Quarterback”. It required multiple large and small shows every weekend. Joe was a champion, though de-barked before I owned him, had spent his life in a crate for breading purposes. We gave Joe a loving family, safe backyard and obedience trading. My first experience with competitive adults whose work was to win were at these shows. I was confused cause they did not seem happy or friendly. I learned how to care for this champion- and learned his signals without his voice. Your story brought back this found memory and soul learning. 🩷
Thanks, Nancy. I did the same with horses… learning their are always monsters and good guys. Thanks for being on this side.
Well done, Jolene, and genetic memory of ancestors herding sheep! She really does lend credence to the trope of dogs resembling their owners, though. Mister had better get his habit under control or rehab may be in his future. Thank goodness you didn’t have another emergency room visit. Drug habits must be a Cardigan thing; I am still having flashbacks of Wilson’s ER visit after he found a THC vape pen. No, it wasn’t mine, perhaps if it had been, I might have found the incident less stressful? I missed Westminster this year, but I did re-watch Best in Show in memory of Catherine O’Hara. I have always said that after my time in the dog show world, I knew every character in that movie. Also, Teddy and I do love the Norwich Terrier song. Thank you so much for my weekly Jolene laugh! We all need more of that these days.
Thanks, Peggy. It’s fun to have an adventure. The threat of emergency vets. The smell of wool on the hoof.
Have you seen the movie ‘Best in Show’ ? The Director, Christopher Guest, has made a lot of funny mockumentaries, but this is our favorite. My horse friends and I are always saying that he should do one about horse shows….
Chris, I loved that movie, but like you, want one about horses. Hehehe. Maybe Mister will make one.
Mister has obviously learned a thing or two from watching the goats on how to negotiate an obstacle. My lack of height has taught me alternative tricks too – but not for drugs!
Fred mastered the art of snatch and swallow, which was never of benefit to his health or my bank balance.
Sheep herding isn’t for the faint hearted- good girl🐾
I was thinking that, Annie. What a goat he is! Lousy habits, both he and Fred. But we persist. Thanks, Annie
So so very impressed with Jolene’s herding instincts! She is one sharp little cookie. Now Mister’s drug habits? And his ability to get to them frankly are quite impressive on their own. We do what we can, right?
Smarter than me, both of them. Thanks Maggie
Your comments about poodles and chihuahuas are not kind. There are many of us who have and love them. Have you personally known any very well? They are smart and wonderful pets. So much comfort on a cod winter’s day or after a hard day- sitting with my 2 Chi-weenies on my lap and my poodle curled up beside me. I’ve had a large variety of dogs of all sizes over my lifetime. They each have something that endears them. My little Schipperke was the brightest and cleverest by far.
And I wasn’t clear. That was what I meant by karma return, that I was wrong. I love poodles. An agility teacup is buried here on my farm. Not mine, but she loved it here. Several have come here when their people travel over the years. Growing up, I had two Chihuahuas that lived inside my sweatshirt. The only dogs my parents let inside the house. Jolene and I both love the Schipperke in scent work class. For years I thought I was a big dog person, with several Goldens and Briards. The last 20 years, it’s been smaller dogs, corgis. But curling in my arms wasn’t possible for most of the rescue dogs who came. Indeed, many dogs are bred to be lap dogs. Obviously, Jolene is small.
I meant the joke to be on me… thinking the people were odd but now being one of the baby holders myself. I apologize. I did not mean offense to your dogs, or to you.
Thanks for clarifying- I appreciate that:) So easy to offend with the wrong wording.
I thought I was a “big dog only” person until the Schipperke and then the 2 Ch-weenies wormed their way into my life- all of them rescues I didn’t know I “needed”.
Size is deceptive that way…
Thanks Cyndi. That’s why writing humor is as challenging as balancing on a tightrope. If I am too safe, I’m boring. If I’m too close to an edge, I offend.
Anna, I can assure you that you have never offended me. I don’t com here to have my thoughts and actions praised; I
come here to learn from your vast experience, all the while enjoying the ride because your presentation is thoughtful, wise, brilliantly written, and often so colorful that I’m thrown into fits of laughter. Please don’t censor yourself because a reader takes offense. We are supposedly all grownups here. I doubt seriously that Jolene or Mister would consider self-censoring.
Heheheh. No they would not, and neither would dear Ferd. He was a truth teller to start, and you can trust him now, even singing a different story. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Laurie.