The Yapping Machine

It’s the first outdoor dog show of the season today and it’s a local one as well, so too good to resist. The weather is even good for it, well for March. Doggo gets off to a sluggish start and, although clear, he is painfully slow in our first event. I consider retiring him there and then. Our second run is much better but horror of horrors, two obstacles from home, he has the long jump down. I think that’s only the second time ever that we’ve come to grief on the long jump and the first time since we were newbies.

The yapping machine (aka MD) is loving every minute of... well just simply being there. So much so that I have to put him back in the car and put a blanket over the window, partly to block out the sun to keep him cool but mainly to shut him up.

It’s also a good opportunity to catch up on the latest club politics which will influence the already complicated selection process for the two teams for the Crufts qualifier at Nottingham in May. This process doesn’t often have a lot to do with ability. Which I suppose is also true of most sports.

After a clear in our last run but still no sniff of a rosette we get ready to head home when it comes to our attention that someone from our club is unintentionally winning grade 5 agility but doesn’t want to because it’s so tough up here in 6. It seems the only person likely to beat them is someone else from our club, who doesn’t want to win either. Quite a crowd assembles to watch this duel, that neither of them wish to win but of course there has to be a winner. Welcome to grade 6. You’ll love it.

Eventually we’re on our way home. L’s parents are coming round later as its Mother’s Day, so we'll get to misbehave alarmingly and have wine on a Sunday. I warn L that we're on our way, so that she can put away the hoover and bring all the washing in before the yapping machine gets home and morphs into the wrecking machine.