Cometh The Hour, Cometh The Dog

Well today's the day. We're up at 5am and on the road by 6am. It's just like going to a dog show, oh we are. We could even be in Preston, the home of most of our winter events, for an 8.30 start but today we've only going as far as the NEC.

One thing doesn't seem right, L is with us. We are well honoured, she usually thinks her presence curses us, but obviously today, we are beyond cursing.

We are the first of our team to arrive; in fact, the rest of them all cut it a bit fine. All the events are run on a spongy carpet floor that we're unfamiliar with, all our events are either on grass outdoors or sand when indoors. Someone sets up a jump in the holding area so that the dogs can practice a few jumps on this strange surface. Luckily, we get to have a go before a Kennel Club Jobsworth comes and takes the jump away, muttering something about Health And Safety. Personally, I think the absence of any warm-up area whatsoever endangers the Health And Safety of the dogs. What athlete would go into an event without even being allowed to warm-up?

Our event, the team agility semi-final starts at 9.35 and eventually it's time to walk the course. L and my parents are both in the crowd along with a few other supporters. I look across at L and see that she is anxiously biting her nails.

It’s a harder course that we had expected but if we can all go clear, then that should be a spot in the final for us. Doggo and I plan to take our usual steady and sure approach; we daren't do anything else because the rest of the team have been talking all morning about what happens after we've gone clear. They seem to think we are a nailed on certainly for a clear round. Hmmm, that's tempting fate a touch.

We are down to run seventh and we take ringside seats to watch the first few teams go. Plan A is quickly being rewritten as the first team, the South Border Collie Club, get all four of their dogs round clear. I cast a glance over to L who seems to have run out of nails and has started on her knuckles.

Thankfully, all the other teams pick up faults. Then suddenly Doggo and I are on the start line. I daren't look over towards L, who I'm sure by now must be down to her elbow. Finally, after months of waiting, anticipation and training, the hour has cometh. Cometh the hour, cometh the dog and his handler. Off we go.

Steady and sure works a treat and we go clear, there weren't even any dodgy moments. The handover goes well and away goes our second dog, who nearly misses out the dog walk completely but a quick correction and the judge decides not to call a fault. Phew.

They go clear too and so does our third dog until the last jump, when all our fears from those sessions training came true. The stroppiest of the quartet, he decided to miss out the last jump and have a go at the next dog. That got them five faults and wasted us valuable time. Then our final dog who was the most likely to have a pole down, did, so another five there.

We finish with ten faults, which puts us in joint third until you take into account the fact we had the slowest time and also incurred some time faults. That put us down to sixth and therefore no place in that afternoon final. Oh well, a bit deflating but still good fun. We'll just have to go away and try to qualify for next year.

We take Doggo back to the car for a well-earned rest and instead use Doggo's pass to get MD into the show. Hopefully one day he'll be here on his own pass. Today he only gets to walk around all the shopping areas but there are plenty of dogs around for him to greet. Nosily. He loves it and eventually stops trying to bark at all and sundry, I think simply because there's just too many of them to deal with.

L, as some kind of stress relief or perhaps just to show that a girl can go shop anywhere, hits the stalls. At Crufts you can buy practically everything, as long as it has a dog on. My Mum and Dad buy a collie mug. L gets collie socks for Daughter, a new lead for MD, oh and food for Son, not collie shaped. We should perhaps have been shopping for something frilly for Daughter instead of socks but we don't find out until later that MD has destroyed her favourite La Senza knickers and even left her a not so little calling card, which Son had to clean up.

We watch a bit of Flyball and then watch the final that we didn't qualify for. All four teams in the final have at least one elimination, one team has two. The last team to run only have to walk their dogs around, to make sure they aren't eliminated, to win. Any other faults or time faults wouldn't matter but they couldn't manage that and handed the trophy to the favourites, the South Border Collie Club. Oh to have been in that final and run last in their place. We could have won that. Which is easy to say now of course.

We head home for some very welcome and well-earned wine and beer. Doggo is absolutely creased by his experience and so oddly is MD. We have to clear them both off the bed before L can properly console her beaten semi-finalist.