I wasn’t thinking, really. The car was packed the night before. I got dressed while Jolene walked me, room to room on my heel. She will Not. Be. Left. Mister would like you to know doing anything at the crap of dawn is not civilized. He was taking his nap after breakfast. He barely woke as we closed the door. Not even a long-suffering buh-bye.
We got an early start to the Douglas County Fairgrounds. Back in the day, there was one arena with nasty aluminum bleachers and a wooden horse barn. Bit by bit, the new construction was added, obscuring the old parts. Now it’s a huge multi-building complex that has several events each weekend. Sprawling enough that I needed a map to find my way.
We are forty-five minutes early to sign in for our AKC scentwork trial. Jolene was out first, jumping into my arms to be lowered to the ground. She’s wearing her superhero scentwork cape/harness. I’m still head-down focused on gathering everything I need. We aren’t parked close, and having to run back would be a problem, even if it wasn’t above eighty degrees already. Finally, we made our way, not that I was paying attention, cutting through parked cars to the sign-in area.
A few cars were rolling through the crowd, and all kinds of dogs were milling about with their handlers. The show office was in sight, but my legs stalled. My mind left my body. The old horse barn was right there. We had arrived from an unfamiliar direction, but now that I see it, it feels like I never left. Over thirty years ago, I brought baby-green Spirit, my eventual Grandfather Horse, here. It felt like yesterday. Later, Dodger and I came here for dressage shows. Ernest, my first donkey, won every obstacle driving class we entered right here. It’s more than hallowed ground. This ratty old stall barn was my place of dreams.
Directly across is the warm-up arena. The Grandfather Horse was a very spooky youngster, and he had an equally spooky rider. I’d stopped at the edge, hoping to slow our panicked spiral. I could have cracked walnuts with my thighs, poor boy. We were on the brink of exploding when I felt my mentor’s hand on my leg. My shoulders dropped five inches. I don’t remember what she said to me, but I must’ve taken a breath because Spirit relaxed his neck. We found each other in that moment; it’s what mentors do. They assemble the sum of our parts into something bigger. I don’t remember her touching me any other time. I certainly had too much respect to hug her ever. But I think of her every day, hear her in my ear, though she has been gone for so long. I smile at the memory now, give Mona a nod, along with her border collie, Bear, always at her feet.
We turned to go sign in. Our number was missing. By the time that got straightened out, the handler’s meeting had started, fifteen minutes early. No dogs allowed, but no time to get Jolene to the truck. We stood in back and I tried to hear. Everyone left for the walkthrough, but again, no dogs. I don’t let myself think it’s a disadvantage. Jolene knows her job, and I’m only human.
We were entered in four different searches each day. Think of them like rides at an amusement park. If they’re making announcements, I can’t hear them. I do hear so much hustle and barking and ambient noise that it drowns out voices beside me. I look at Jolene. This is certainly the most chaotic place we’ve been, but there she is, parked by my feet with a slack lead.
That’s when I see an old Briard friend. She offered to videotape us, truly a gift. The three of us began with the Interior search. A quick find. Then, to Buried where the scent is under sand. Jolene acted as if there was no scent so we did not Q. Next was Containers, no problem. And then they directed us down an alley toward the Exterior search.
As we were walking, I recognized the alley, hearing the echo of hooves on pavement. This was where Ernest had his runaway. Someone behind us slammed a metal dumpster lid, and he bolted in a dead run. There’s an old teamster joke. What do you do when your team runs away? Enjoy the ride. It’s true, not much to do. I cooed whoa and softly asked and released the lines. He came back eventually. We didn’t flip.
Then we were at the Exterior search, and Jolene rocked it. (See the video here.) We ended up in first place in a class of thirty dogs.
Exiting, I saw what used to be the main show arena. It looked a bit dowdy now, but Dodger and I had the most dynamic ride there, in front of a judge who was in a lousy mood. I learned to blow off railbirds from that horse who always saw himself as invincible. Oh, we had peaks and valleys when he was young, but I always had to fly to keep up with his confidence. I still wonder if the problems in the horse world would be resolved if everyone had a chance to ride a horse who loved their job like he did. Maybe we’d finally stop fighting horses.
(I wrote about Dodger and the others in Stable Relation and in my Relaxed & Forward blog. If you’re new, check there for backstory.)
Somewhere in the middle, my friend and I walked our dogs, both of us still heartbroken at the loss of our Briards years before. Both of us wild about the dogs we have now. Hers was a beautiful Saluki girl, another ancient breed like Jolene. We may be lifelong dog lovers, but these dogs are the ones who have truly traveled far to be here today.
On day two, Jolene and I got there earlier to be better prepared. So, of course, there was a long wait. We could go back to the truck where I had all of my shade gear rigged up. Or find a place to sit inside, which was hot and noisy, but at least we had a chance of hearing when our class was called.
A woman walked up and said, you’re Anna Blake. Then walked away. Getting recognized is unnerving to me. She looked remotely familiar, but at this age, who doesn’t look remotely familiar? Later she came back, and we chatted. She’d been to a clinic years ago but didn’t have a horse now. She said, I’m 80. I have no business riding horses. I told her all of mine were retired. Later I saw her with a small dog, carrying a handful of ribbons. Still riding, if you ask me.
Finally, it was time for the novice level to start. We cruised through the first three searches, one of which was the Buried. Yay! Then we did the Exterior search and Jolene couldn’t find anything. Peaks and valleys, I tell her. But no worries. Jolene smiles either way.
I could tell the environment was wearing on Jolene as hours passed, but she stayed happy and positive. As we were waiting for our final results, a woman came up and asked if she could meet Jolene. Unlike Mister and I, Jolene always says yes. And I am thrown into my job as assistant to the ambassador of the breed. The woman says she’s watched us for a couple of days and she just thinks Jolene is the nicest dog. She wants to know about the breed. Jolene is sitting on my lap, posing while the woman scratches under her chin. Jolene is humble about her nature, her way of being. I want to scream out my feelings about her. But I follow her lead and say, thank you.
That day we did not Q in the Exterior search where we placed first yesterday. The Buried search that she missed yesterday, she found quickly today. At the end, we qualified in six of eight searches and were in the ribbons for five of them. In other words, Jolene was absolutely perfect.
This trip to an amusement park was fun, but it isn’t about ribbons. I know the real win. Jolene is easy company. We get to have each other in this life, and that makes me the winner.
We cranked up the air and headed home. Jolene isn’t a bit tired. She says, let’s do something fun tomorrow. I say, we’ll see.
…
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Women Aging Cantankerously
