Part Two: A Dressage Queen and a Herding Dog Walk Into a Bar

And by “bar,” I mean the Swedish Vallhund Nationals. We didn’t tell Mister. I packed up the Rollin’ Rancho out of view, closed the curtains, and Jolene and I pulled out just as if we were going to a class. We drove two hours north to Greeley and joined the Vallhund family camp. Over 1600 dogs of all breeds are here for the dogapalooza involving several days of multiple, consecutive AKC shows. There are conformation classes and all the dog sports. Jolene and I are here for scent work and to cheer the family.

From tiny teardrop campers to full-glam tour buses, every available gap has an RV parked. We had spots around an open grass field, so I set up a small ex-pen yard. There is so much dog activity that Jolene sat and watched like she was filming a documentary. She isn’t barking in this ocean of dogs. Mister would have hyperventilated, passed out, and still been moving his jaw. But we miss him anyway.

The next morning was the first of two scent work trials held in the Greeley Stampede arena. We arrived early for the handler’s meeting, underneath the stadium seats in the cool shade of cement. We signed in for our four elements and took a seat. A woman walked up who recognized Jolene from this blog. Not me, Jolene.

When the meeting started, the noise level exploded. It was like being airdropped into Manhattan at rush hour. Unless you can’t hear, then it’s more like Tokyo. The general chaos boomed. My tinnitus gets louder when sound levels rise. That would have been enough, but it was the anniversary of losing my hearing. And I was feeling sorry for myself.

Partway through the day, I found out there was an app, but it wouldn’t download. Then it wasn’t working, even for people with hearing. Once it did work, they didn’t update it regularly. No one seemed to know where the search areas were. People were in a bad mood, which I made worse by constantly asking them to repeat. Jolene napped on a bench for an hour while I wondered if I should even be there.

While waiting, a woman told me about running her older, nearly blind dog. She said the dog found the scent, but she alerted to the wrong people. She got anxious and disoriented in different spaces. I said I knew how her dog felt. Then we were up, and Jolene was all business. She loves the hunt and is quick. I am doomed to continue this sport because I am a girl who can’t say no. Not to animals, at least.

Still, we were exhausted from the heat, and from asking what?, and from race-walking to the trailer to use our bathroom, since dogs weren’t allowed in public restrooms. Like it’s dogs who trash bathrooms.

Our goal was to get our novice title at Nationals. We needed to qualify in six of eight specific elements. At the end of day one, Jolene got a first and third placement in two searches, but we didn’t qualify in the other two. We would need to Q in all four elements tomorrow.

The second day was not as hard because I didn’t have the energy to suffer. The app gave intermittent information but nothing relevant. We had three runs in the morning and Q’d in each, with the fourth at the end of the day. Did I mention 1600 dogs? Jolene suggested the mature thing. We hid in our air-conditioned trailer, napping. She disconnects her bones when she sleeps. I’m trying to learn.

The errant app had been quiet for hours, but I took a guess. We gathered our gear and headed to the other corner of the grounds. Just as we came in, someone I’d waited in line with before headed out in the direction I thought the search might be. We followed them and lined up in the aisle of a horse barn with stalls. Feeling at home, I had to smile to my ghost herd, never far away. Looking down at little Jolene, her eyes were bright, and she had happy feet. I was even chatty with strangers. Dogs are right about naps.

At last, we were cleared to walk across an open area to the judge in another smaller barn. The judge started moving her lips when I was halfway there. I held up my hand and said, please, I’m hard of hearing. She frowned, and I thought, me too.

Jolene and I paused at the start line in case any scent was moving our direction. Then I said, find it. She jumped forward, snaked around a trash can, following her snout along a curved line to a stone that looked just like the other stones. She gave her special sniff, sat down, and looked at me. I said alert; the timer stopped at nine seconds. The judge said yes, and I thanked her. We did it, I thought. One of us was a warrior and one of us a wet blanket, but we qualified.

We went back to the central area to wait for the results. I wanted to save us an extra hike back in this heat. Jolene climbed up to perch on my lap, her tail-free backside pushed in close. A bum hug of sorts. The results were posted, and I did the math one more time. We had the right Qs in the needed elements.

As we were getting our ribbons and making notes, the show secretary asked if Jolene was still there. I raised our hand. She said we were high in trial.

It was unexpected and I wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. It’s pretty self-explanatory, but I’ve doubted every syllable I heard for the last year. Was she even talking to us? Besides, Jolene and I were off in our tiny world. She repeated it because apparently the stupefied look on my face made her wonder if I was deaf. Isn’t that how the joke goes?

A judge standing nearby pulled down a big fat Best in Trial ribbon and handed it to us. I might have mumbled thanks, but maybe not. In our tiny world, I looked down at Jolene patiently sitting at my feet. She looks at me the same way, win or lose, because I look at her the same way, win or lose.

We walked out with our arms full of ribbons and surprise! There was Carrie with our family golf cart. The ride back to camp felt like a victory gallop.

By the third day, our scent work was finished, so we loitered inside the event center for the conformation classes. Not to mention, they get air conditioning. We shopped for treats; Jolene got free samples. Several rings were showing at once, with a traffic jam of dogs, crates on wheels, and professional handlers. The junior handlers, so serious, remind me of those 4-H halter classes. I ran into five friends I didn’t expect to see, one I hadn’t seen in twenty years. Most of them I met through horses.

There were dozens of Vallhunds. Our sisters showed beautifully, and Parker, our sire, received a Best of Breed Award of Merit, along with new scent work titles. They all came home with wins. Each dog was remarkable: tough, smart, and brave. Then our family of dogs created a family of people, who cheer and care about each other.

I can’t imagine Mister could have tolerated an instant of this chaos, but Jolene was walking beside me through a group of huge dogs. I might be the most proud of her now, seeing the crowd through her eyes. Then, a window-rattling cheer, and Jolene quaked. She wanted up, a little panicked. It’s a fair trade for the times she steadied me. We hurried outside. Jolene had had enough. Bearing up under the stress so well, but just like me, ready to go home to tell Mister he was right.

We packed up, reminiscing before we were even gone. The memory of this family reunion will be cherished forever, pronouns we/us.

And in last-minute, independent, and extremely partial judging, I awarded Best Dog in the World to Jolene. Just like 1599 others did to the dogs sitting beside them.

…

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