A better thing to do on Halloween then keeping the dogs from barking.

So this is pretty cool. While trying to distract the dogs from trick or treaters, I'm watching live Performance Grand Prix Finals on the internet!

Saw Raymond and Laurie and that fast poodle and Dave and lots of people we know running in their yellow shirts. Very cool! You can watch all the rest of stuff live, just go to this url at usdaa's website: http://www.usdaa.com/vc_live.cfm. If you're reading this and it's you know, a whole other day, check back there later. There will be lots more, especially the big money runs coming up Saturday and Sunday.

Tater got a 4th in PNS! Even with your wacky front cross Raymond! The super fast papillon won the 8". We see her a lot. She has shelties too. You go watch yourselves. Laurie's up again, second dog. Crap. She got rattled I think when Boo missed the dogwalk contact. Won't put all the results up here. Oh wait, Scout and Laurie got 4th in 12"! Gotta go and watch some more and listen for those little candy eaters clomping up on my porch. Good dog, Otterpop.

It's sort of like a spa, like the kind they have in hell.

So everyone who is anyone except for some people, all drove to Arizona for dog agility this week.

Yep, the USDAA Nationals. The super big fancy show that we decided to miss. Even with byes to the Grand Prix semi's. Just had to throw that in. Just because. Because it's been a hard dog week and have to remind myself that there are good dogs here. Somewhere. Actually sleeping in 4 dog beds in a row under the desk right now. Being good, well behaved, asleep dogs.

Am I sad I didn't do the 12ish hour drive and motels and mayhem and time faults and all that? Hell yeah. Who knows what next year brings? Am I sad of how much money I did not spend by not going? Thanks termites who have eaten up half our house and need to have all that saved money thrown at them. Remember cute sliding glass door and deck? Maybe a mexican tiled patio? Sunset Magazine outdoor room? Ha HA said the termites and we will trade termite money for USDAA Nationals. Evil little winged bugs with fangs. Eaten up all the wood. Even have subterranean termites. OOooh scary! Very halloween.

We'll be keeping tabs on USDAA Nationals, though. Maybe during trick or treating hours tonight, via the internet. Since my job is to keep Otterpop from getting stressed out and things quiet and calm and soothing, like we live in a Spa! A spa where the doorbell rings every 10 minutes and short people in weird clothes and judges hats are out there yelling holding giant sacks. Like a spa where zombies come barging in every few minutes screaming "HOWS THAT FACIAL WORKING FOR YOU AND I EAT YOUR BRAIN NOW!" Dog trainer friend said first order of business for Otterpop, the de-stress. Her little brain is fried and regardless of who is the head of the pack or carrying a giant sack, life needs to unstress for her.

Not sure how agility works into that, because it makes her nice and tired. It is not exactly a calm and soothing thing though. So not yoga class. Took the dogs to practice yesterday morning, and were all good citizens and no one weird or attacky or extra barky or cowery and all played frisbee together multiple times because that is still the jackpot reward for the gazillions of weave poles, thank you Gustavo. I set up some courses and everyone did all the courses and played together and happy campers all day long. So maybe it's a spa where there can still be agility and manic frisbee games but in an unstressful way? Where videos of the USDAA Nationals plays as soothing harpy/flutey music performed by tea serving hobbits?

I know. Some of you, nice dogs wearing ladybug costumes and doing tricks in the Halloween parade. Timmy was like that. Had a Princess Diana costume and loved wearing it proudly. This crew? Just think of us while you're out there trick or treating, or drinking or barfighting, or whatever maybe you guys do on Halloween, we'll be sitting in an unstressful back bedroom, pretending that no one is at the door and we always eat a giant bowl of Reeses Peanut Butters every single night just because. It's fun. While all our friends are probably winning glamorous events at the big dog show. And that it is soothing and fun maybe I still gots some of those dog tranquilizers around here somewhere. Now that's what I call a spa treatment.

Zombies made me do it.

Last night, walked out of Dirt Nite with my dogs in tow. Just walked out the gate in the middle of it. Zombies have taken over Otterpop's brain. She has a new personality that I hate, and it's rubbing off on Gustavo making him jumpy and barky and Ruby is cowery and needy. It's like someone exchanged my dogs in the Twilight Zone and I'm stuck with these weirdos I don't even know. Just sitting out there with these new dogs made me mad and I'm getting sick and I just had to leave.

Much of the time, I have the old dogs back, and it's great and I'm like, phew. Then all of a sudden, the zombie dogs or one or two of them show up and it's back into the Twilight Zone, except it's an episode where you realize it's really not the twilight zone, it's just that now you actually own zombie dogs and your dogs may or may not be gone, brains eaten by zombies and stuck with these now.

I think it's Otterpop who had the zombie encounter. The others? Just reacting to her. Does that happen? I find it hard to believe the presence of one little chihuahua would do this much brain surgery. Does that happen? Is it the elections? The stock market? Stock market went up. Obama is going to win. Come ON OTTERPOP.

So there's some dog training something or other in here somewhere.

This about sums it up.


Whew. Just a lot going on. This animal we visited, kept safely in a cage.


This guy, should not be driving. Period. Thinks he knows how to back up already. I'm just saying. Maybe wait til 4 for parallel parking.


This one. Likes to nap. Dance around. Get licked by dogs.


These things. Also, this photo not posed. They just did that. In the like 5 minutes of entire 2 days where there were not total jerks. What happened? Of all of them, Black Beauty only respectable houseguest. I used to have all easy traveling dogs. Now I have a completely evil stalker named Otterpop, total jerk Gustavo with resident big dog, and Ruby's new drama queen victim personality change. Those three, complete separation anxiety meltdown cases which meant shuttling dogs along with car seats and bananas and cheerios in little ziploc bag around the greater Los Angeles area. Chihuahua, just buzzes around unfettered and oblivious and happy to do whatever activity dujour was. Like how about get stuffed in a crate and drive on the freeway some more? SUPER! Would be the answer from Black Beauty.

Am actually worried the easiest dog in the world may be causing some of the household unrest. Everyone seems to love her, she loves everyone. But Otterpop has flipped a serious screw loose somewhere and can't be separated from Ruby, or else when put back together with her acts like crazyland and not in a good crazyland way. When kept close, everything just fine. Twisted and bizarre and challenging to manage and just really from left field the last couple weeks, and only thing besides Obama skyrocketing in polls and stocks rollercoastering is addition of Black Beauty to household pack. Really weirdo and amplified when we were away from home, and making me wonder if Chihuahua was the catalyst of it, can Chihuahua stay? I will not have another dog fight happen between my dogs. That's what I have to say about that.

A few simple rules to make it all go smoothly.

Let's see if I can get this straight.

Gustavo bugs Matilda. She is bigger but he is faster. Watch them around the ball.

Watch the kids around all the dogs. Except Nicky around Matilda.

Watch Otterpop around Ruby. Especially when Matilda is there. Otterpop and Beauty can sleep in crates.

Ruby and Otterpop can ride in the crate together. When Nicky is in the car, stuff Beauty and Gustavo in a crate together. Don't leave any dogs alone. Just stuff them all in crates somehow.

If Nicky not in car, then Gustavo can ride without Beauty.

Ruby and Otterpop have to be near each other at all times or you have to watch Otterpop.

Otterpop has to be near me at all times or she starts to stress out then you have to watch her around Ruby.

Make sure Nicky doesn't chase Beauty.

Watch Gustavo and Matilda around the food.

Don't forget Yellow, whatever you do. If you do, then drive back and get Yellow. Make sure to take out the car seat and then there's room for the other dog crate.

Don't let Gustavo lick the baby.

OK. Once you've done all that, multiply one toddler times 4, subtract 3 if baby is sleeping, add in the whole Whittier double bonus point trips, which are actually exponential, divide by shady parking space (although subtract 8 when there are no parking spaces), don't count the knee replacement, and then you have the answer.

In L.A.

In L.A.
Dogs being super neurotic and evil. All of them.
Except for the Chihuahua.
Go figure.
Really not fun for anyone.
Except for the Chihuahua.
In L.A.

Damn the Dam Teams.

So I posted to one of my dog club emails the other day, looking for DAM team members for an upcoming trial. DAM team, my non agility friend, sort of like a big dog show popularity contest ending in a sack race where you all have your legs tied together and your eggs in one basket and if someone trips, you execute them. Very exciting agility event! One where I am actually taking a Saturday off in December so I can do DAM Team. I think most people get invited to be on teams months and months in advance. No wait. Years. Booked years in advance. Waiting list and a concierge tells you to take a number to book a team with them.

For Team Small Dog, we get invited occasionally. On occasion. Sometimes. Not much. Am not super popular. As agility ladies go, not exactly in the in crowd. The out crowd? Sundays Only Non Border Collie Crowd? Sucks at Gamblers Group? Makes Fun of Dog Agility on Internet and No Friends Left Anonymous?

And what do I hear of potential teams? Silence. Nada. The email is not ringing off the hook. Maybe will get one offer from someone who has never entered their dog in a trial but would be willing to do it now to make me feel better if I pay their entries. Am feeling very jr. high here, kittens, and self esteem falling by the second. This is just like in 7th grade and NO ONE asked me to dance and really, I am still reeling from the pain of it all. They played Foghat and everything. I think I had new Dittos. I just sat there, on a cafeteria bench and I dunno what. This was before texting. You could not sit and text. You just sit there and that's it. Wait to get picked up by your mom. Farrah Fawcett wing-do just drooping in the humidity of sweaty tweens slow dancing to the Commodores. There could be suckier dogs than the dogs of Team Small Dog. Suckier handlers than I. I PRACTICE, you guys! I swear. Yes they are both ADCh-free, but almost there if they just get the gambles which we don't even have to stress out about in team!

So, Hi! If you want to be on a DAM team with 12" Championship Otterpop or 12" Performance Ruby, Santa Rosa in December, please email me? Hi? We don't do that bad. Ruby loves the indoor arena in Santa Rosa and though this year was her year of the E, she is usually super happy running indoors on dirt. And Otterpop just trucks along. Not an E machine at all. We try really hard to get our team Q at this trial because might be our only chance with my limited trial schedule.

Um, hello? This thing on?

How to Photograph a Chihuahua-a primer.

October, when you cannot photograph a chihuahua.

In Autumn, we are watching the leaves go golden and auburn and crisply blow in the chilly breeze to crunchy piles in the driveway, helping the kiddos put together their trick or treat costumes and readying the apple harvest for our first press of tart cider.

My ass.


It's 400 degrees in the shade right now. Hot air sticking to dirt from the sweat you are bleeding at work in the sun. Make you just want to walk around in your underpants. The air is like you are a perm and you are sentenced to sitting in the hair dryer until you curl up and shrink down to nothing. Dogs too tired to be bad. All dogs good dogs right now. Thanks Otterpop. Way too hot to deal with dogs that list Charlton Heston, Tom Cruise, and Charles Manson as fave picks for president. Just embrace the whole Obama thing, Otterpop. Lay in the dirt, chubby stomach heaving in the heat and embrace.

You ever drink Hooch? Hard lemonade? Street corner malt liquor disguised as sugary limon in early '90's grunge type packaging that all the kids love. Cold, I tell you. Cold. Only thing you can drink when you get home, then you pass out on the couch. Instead of reading that informative and well written essay in the New Yorker that explains finances or politics or thread count or whatever. Some damn thing. Hooch. Makes you dream about nothing, the hooch does.


Still can't photograph the Chihuahua.

Thank God Otterpop Cannot Run for President.

Otterpop's Campaign Slogans:

Otterpop for No Change
Change is bad. Otterpop.
Otterpop Hate Change.
Stop it Now. Say Otterpop.
I am the King. Obey Me or Else.

Do we have a weird gun toting liberatarian candidate running this year? Maybe with weird hair that talks a little too loud and is supported by the NRA? Actually maybe running on more of a dictatorship ticket? Planning a coup? Because if we do, that's Otterpop's candidate. And she lives in an Obama house. Me and Gary, we are so for Obama. If we were bumperstickery types, ours would say Obama. Ruby? Totally for Obama. She's smart. Black Beauty? As a political analyst, she should be impartial but we think she was freaked out by Sarah Palin and she had only lived here for like a week when I made her watch the vice presidential debate. What a shocking way to enter the world of living inside a house. Gustavo? Um, who supports medical marijuana? Anyone? He likes Obama. No way does he like McCain. But he actually might not understand that it's an election year right now. Duuuuude.

Otterpop likes her world consistent and the same and nothing in it that is not to her liking. She likes to make rules. No ONE CAN BARK AT THE CAT GUSTAVO AND I WILL BITE YOUR HEAD IF YOU BARK AT THE CAT. If Otterpop could type, would always be in allcaps. Can anyone say UNIBOMBER MANIFESTO? Usually she is harmless about all this and perhaps annoying and life goes on and we just laugh at her and then throw the tennis ball.

However.

In the spirit of Change is Bad, we made a change to the household which was the addition of one chihuahua. AKA Black Beauty but frequently known around here as The Chihuahua. Like some crazy thing, adding a 10lb dog in a household of 15lb dogs. Nutty! Insane! And she is even black and looks exactly like them basically but somewhat smaller. Like they're not chihuahuas. They could be. Maybe. Anyways.

We added a dog. After the big change of we lost a dog, our beloved Timmy Best Dog. She got weird when we lost a dog. Had a little personality bauble when Timmy became a ghost dog, and when his body still walked around here but his mind checked out. Became meaner for a time, and meaner always means meaner to Ruby. You see her give her the stink eye, and watch Ruby move to a new dog bed, or chair, or what have you. Some tussles here and there, but mostly just sort of personality shift. Not a dog fight.

This time though. Added a change to the change. Took Little Miss I Have Separation Issues and locked her in a horse trailer for a couple hours last week and freaked her out. When the freak out ended, just like how you always hurt the one you love, started actual dog fight with Ruby. Had to pull them apart. Separate them. Freaked me out BIG TIME. I do not have dogs that have dog fights. Her heart was racing a hundred miles and hour and shaking and just wanted to get Ruby. Locked her in a crate, kept her on a leash, made her sit with Ruby and receive treats only for being near Ruby and doing tricks with Ruby after she settled down later in the evening and they were best friends by the next morning.

And things better. Otterpop seemed a little more manic playing at the beach, a little rough with everyone, a little extra jacked up. But no more mean to Ruby. Until last night at Dirt Nite, I did something different. Made a change. Pulled Ruby out by herself and let her run a few runs earlier in the evening, just for something new. CHANGE! And not fair. Otterpop big on fair. So that night, Otterpop sees Ruby and decides once again, I MUST GET RUBY. Didn't let a dog fight start, but I think it could have. That was Otterpop's plan. Separated them, made Otterpop sit in the car. Alone. Not fair. But I was mad and freaked out. By the time we got home, everyone seemed fine but still did my thing of Otterpop on a leash, made her sit with Ruby and get treats for sitting nicely, touching her with her nose then looking at me then at her then at me then getting treats. Watching her like a hawk for signs of weird and unstable. This morning, Otterpop seems weirded out, but not crazyland like last night. Everyone friends again.

So yeah. These are the inseperable sisters. Never apart. Live in crate together. Sit together. Sleep together. Unhealthy relationship? Beginning to wonder. Otterpop like total wife beater tank top wearing wife beater? Bully? Horrible little man with an inferiority complex? Insecure? You always hurt the one you love? And then she sees her candidate going down the toilet and we are all, Obama! We love Obama! We love The Chihuahua! Ruby is so beautiful! Gustavo is the weave pole weaving super star running masters courses at Dirt Nite! And Otterpop just gets meaner and meaner and glowering and holding it in until KABLAMMO! And Poor Ruby.

Do we have to give up the Chihuahua so Otterpop does Not Have Change? Change happens. Obama should be winning. She'll have to get over it. Shouldn't an 8 year old dog and a nearly 5 year old dog who have been inseparable sisters for going on 4 years be over to work things out? Is this where I take them to a shrink? Cesar? Let's try not to freak me out here, my friends.

Courtroom Drama Episode 6-A Visit to Court.

Now, my court date isn't until November 18. But was thinking, maybe paying a nice visit to court not a bad idea. Maybe go see Judge Kim in action. Visit the bailiff again. See what court looks like when it's not an arraignment. Take off some work for some official research. We have less than a month. Time to get cracking on my case. Takes time to learn the attorney ways. And today, the ways of the court.

Figured it's ok for anyone to go visit, right? Snuck in before the judge arrived. And who do I see but Dog Trainer Lori there, with her service dog in the back row. She is there for a minor traffic infraction. Her very well trained dog on a down stay at her feet. She's a pet dog trainer in town that I know, and she has been a student in beginning agility class! She's in the back row, I slip in by her and sit behind the row of COPS. A whole row of 10 cops of all shapes and sizes and uniforms and guns, including one State Parks Ranger! Hello research day!

Actual Courtroom sketch. No time to draw his bench. Had lots of notes to take guys!

We are whispering about our legal matters before the judge comes. Bailiff, a scowling lady with long bangs today, glares. Dog Trainer Lori suggest I get an emergency Canine Good Citizen title on my dogs before my court date, and she is just the dog trainer to do it! Score! Thanks Dog Trainer Lori! Bailiff glares. Shit. But as I will see in court, evidence helps and the more papers that I have showing what Good Dogs I have, can't hurt. I think. Somewhere I have evidence of USDAA and CPE titles and Official Pet Assisted Therapy Dog, but actually, as a person who does not keep ribbons or junky junk like that, I may have put these in the recycling bin. Sorry USDAA and CPE. I confess. Did not frame and put on the wall by their giant oil painted portrait murals. I may pay the price in court.

So anyways. The Judge is a little more Judge Judy here than she was on arraignment day. She announces the rules of court, and reminds us that she is Not Inviting a Dialog. You just talk when it's your turn. Another important thing to take note of, we will learn.

Everyone gets sworn in by the scowling woman next to the judge. She's the one who gives you a paper about your fine. She has on a wrinkled summer blouse. No official court outfit for her. Judge has a robe, Bailiff a cop outfit, wrinkled blouse for her. I get sworn in too. I was the only one that didn't stand up when she told us all rise to get sworn in and I got a scowl, so up I go and stand and raise my right hand and swear to tell the truth. I'm just the reporter today. You guys, I ALWAYS tell the truth. Usually. Definitely when sworn in. Was pretty undramatic and involves no bibles. That must have gone out of style during civil rights.

So after some business with cops not showing up and defendants not showing up, it's Dog Trainer Lori's turn. To protect her identity and privacy, let's say her minor infraction was just something we have all done in the car. Mi-Nor. But she was the one that got popped and here she is and she has a table full of evidence that maybe doesn't make her not guilty, but does make her look like a good citizen. Big Time. Talks about a canine emergency she was handling at time of her infraction. Her pro bono work with County Animal Services. The judge's interest is piqued. She has spread a load of evidence over the table and speaks clearly and concisely and by the end, judge has said, OK, you may be guilty but no fine for you. It is suspended. Suspended being a good thing here. Not like that time in high school. And off she goes. I'll talk to you soon, Dog Trainer Lori!

She did look just like this. But meaner.

Next case involves a hitchhiker who might be a Crazy Guy vs. Cop. Hitchhiker has random photos of stuff he keeps labeling Exhibit A, B, C and so on. Cop is confused. Bailiff confused, and snorts her disapproval. She is snorty. Judge confused. Crazy Guy is confused. Long story short, Crazy Guy vs. Cop, guess who wins? Good luck next time, Crazy Guy.

Next case, Well Groomed Guy in tie vs. Cop. An unsafe lane change. Well Groomed Guy's word vs. Cop's. Guess who wins? Better luck next time, but nice job with your hygiene!

Next case, guy in tie and Dockers vs. Cop. Speeding case, near the University. NOTORIOUS spot for radar cops. But this guy has driven all the way down from Roseville for court, was in our fair city for his daughter's soccer tournament and this cop has dragged his name through the mud by ticketing him and boy is he MAD. Thinks the cop is lying. So far, we have learned that Judge Kim tends to side with Cops. Now we are learning she does not like mad people and by God, she HAS JUST TURNED INTO JUDGE JUDY! Am freaking out here. Note to self. Do not get mad and DO NOT INTERRUPT JUDGE KIM! He lost right then and there. Better luck next time, and be sure to visit the Boardwalk and toss some tax revenue into our city coffers on your way out, our friend in Dockers.

Proof is important in court. Here's proof of my reporter's notebook.

Next case, Older Lady in a Navy Blue Cardigan vs. Cop. She stands up there, hands nervously twitching behind her back. Her cardigan from Lands End or other such mail order place. She is scared. She got a rolling stop sign ticket right by her house, where she has lived for 32 years, by this super tall young whippersnapper motorcycle cop. She is almost crying because she is a safe driver and he said she wasn't. She would never do anything unsafe right there, on her street. She says the 32 years thing a couple times. Judge Kim gets mad again. She DOES NOT LIKE PEOPLE REPEATING themselves, note to self. Uh, so sorry, lady in your sensible cardigan. Better luck next time. Don't forget to sit in the blue chair to wait for your bill which you can pay on your way out.

Finally, the case I've been waiting for. The last officer left in the row of cops is the State Parks Ranger. His talking to god machine strapped to him, row of guns and cuffs and junk strapped across his manly belt. Same belt bailiff is wearing. She is manly too, in her too long bangs and scowly face way. He goes up there with a young guy. Guy is surfer kid. It's a long story. Judge looks like she has a teenager at home and has heard this story one too many times. Lot of holes in his long tale involving the skateboard and the permit and the fight and the market across the tracks and what was in the glove box. Ranger really doesn't need to say much, as the young dude sort of just talking his way further and further into a deep hole. A deep hole of losing.

One of the last things she admonishes young dude with is the warning, "Think before you use a State Beach. They have specific rules. Don't waste State resources at a time when they are scarce."

Gulp. But they're the ones driving around out there in their State resources giving us damn tickets for walking dogs. Oh boy.

So in my court day, how many citizens pleaded their cases successfully? How about ZERO! Zero became not guilty. A couple had fines suspended or reduced. The rest, so sorry, please come again. Lots of snorting and eye rolling from the bailiff. Bored sorting and filing from wrinkled blouse. Judge Kim, she's heard it all before. Like a million times. Not a whole lot is going to sway her to not side with our nation's finest, in their clean, pressed uniforms, badges, buckles and belts. Polished high boots and clearly written reports. These are her GUYS. She loves you guys. You keep the justice, make us citizens play by her rules. And then bring the troublemakers in here to get shamed.

Um. Has nothing to do with court. But what a depressing task we face. Just watching Gustavo do bizarre things is some good pet assisted therapy for me. This fence barking lasted exactly 2 days then went away. OK!

Court sounds fun? Oh man. Can't wait.

The new way to take a walk.

So this isn't really in a courtroom. But is something I think I could mention in a courtroom. Let's say defense preparation. Or just a new way to describe how to take the dogs for a walk in Lighthouse Field. The old way, before court cases and rangers and litigation and settlements, you just walked over there, took off the leashes, walked around, said hi to people, looked at some butterflies, walked around, that was sort of it. Very, very simple. The new way, a stealth mission, a political action, an exercise in civic justice, ethics and morals, and also calls into play issues of public safety. Holy moley Batman, how hard does it have to be to talk the dogs for a damn walk in our fair city of Santa Cruz?


So in the morning, would like to walk through Lighthouse Field to go to the beach. No longer a destination, now more of a head achey quandry due to all the afore mentioned line items. Seems like the rangers staying off of the beach, but also seems like they are in the field full force. By field, let's say 33 acre field of dead grass with bushes here and there that now make nice bars, campgrounds, and sleazy motel rooms. But where, for years, was just a scenic place to walk around with dogs and the bushes were just that-bushes. Worse crime out there was once an old lady in a light blue windbreaker dropped her kleenex out of her sleeve and forgot to pick it up. Or maybe just couldn't bend over that far. Litterbug. Off with her head. That was the level of criminals out there. Someone forgot to pick up their poop? Here come the dog walking righteous Stewards of Beloved Park to chastise and make sure it's picked up. Peer pressure, self policing, crime free. You want a chatty, gray haired lady in a colorful hat with a giant poodle chewing you out and then yacking your ear off about her poodle? Yeah. You behave out there.

Now, with the new advent of Rangers enforcing the new leash laws, no one walks out there. Deserted. At least by nice neighbors with dogs. People that enjoy using bushes for bars, campgrounds, and sleazy motel rooms, they sorta like the no neighbors and their pesky dogs walking around out there because who wants a big fluffy dog jumping on you in your sleeping bag or disturbing your romantic moment that'll buy ya some meth in a few minutes? Inconvenient. So now, more of those folks there now with the less dogs. Zero of poodle ladies afraid of creepies in the bushes. Way fewer of folks like me. A few of us still take our chances with rangers and man shit and sleepers and shooters, just cuz we still like to walk in our neighborhood park. Field. Dead grass with bushes. We keep to the edges, creep around, a little bit paranoid of the new Anything Can Happen out there vibe in the field.

This morning, walking through, had this feeling of Ranger Alert and kept my dogs attached to my person. Attached to My Person. I say things like this, now that I'm preparing my first legal case. Attached to my person where I've always let my dogs walk free makes me crazy, so didn't even walk through on our normal path. Too depressing. Sort of skirted along the edge, heading for the beach. And good thing, because saw the big white Dodge pickup with the lights on top-Assault Weapon Armed Ranger Wheels- come through. That's the New Steward of the Park now. Good thing paths wide. Those are big trucks. Very nice for driving around in our park. One of those things could take out one poodle lady no problem.

Took dogs down to the beach. Ran around. Just me. No one else. A lot of people scared of tickets down there still. I'm on the perhaps delusional idea that they leave us alone at the beach as opposed to in the field. Actually have to park big Dodge trucks and walk down a million stairs and kind of big inconvenience for truck driving Rangers. Who knows what the reasoning is. Ran for a while, dogs good and tired. Once it becomes winter, tides change and we usually lose the beach for a few months, so not sure what will happen then. Won't worry about that today.

Came up to walk back home via field, took a look around, looking for trucks. Low and behold. Aloha means hello AND goodbye. Who do we see? Ranger truck redux. Numero dos. Different truck completely, this is one of the ones with camper shells, albeit still big and powerful and shiney and new. They all have same rack mounted assault weapons, I've checked. See them talking to a lady off in the distance. Uh oh. Another couple ladies walking and jogging through, dogs definitely on leashes.

Ask a lady I recognize, with a scruffy big dog on a leash and an Obama button on her periwinkle jogging suit, "Did anyone get a ticket?"

Lady jogger says, "I couldn't believe it. She saw them coming, put her dog on a leash, and they are writing her up."

I'm like, "Do you know if it's actually ticket?" Until now, I'm the only person I've heard of getting an actual for money ticket. Most people just get warnings. Most people don't make Officer Walters so mad. No one else I know learning about how court works and building their defense and borrowing a power suit and briefcase. Planning a mock trial with silver tongued friends to help prepare for talking to the judge.


Lady jogger thought so. I couldn't tell who it was. A lady in a light green parka with a big dog. Blurry in the distance. Criminal. Us criminals out there, Joe the Plumbers walking the dogs, causing the state to send giant trucks driving through what once was the nicest field of dead grass around, star of the neighborhood, community gem. Now, via loopholes and court settlements and litigation galore, dead grass with paranoid ladies walking dogs quickly through on leashes, one eye out for creepies in the bushes and the other for great big trucks coming up from behind. It's the new way to take a walk.

Top ten things I did this weekend.

Best boy dogs.

photo:Rob Michalski

Gustavo and Hobbes. Hobbes isn't even my dog, but he's my other favorite boy dog. Poor Gustavo. So outnumbered by the girls now. Used to be more gender equal in the dog department around here-Timmy and Gustavo, Ruby and Otterpop. Gustavo never really knew Timmy Best Dog before he was old and sick. So I try to make sure he hangs out with Hobbes for a good boy dog role model whenever he can. Hobbes doesn't really notice him. Gustavo is some little jumpy flea making monkey sounds and there is agility to be done and time to get on with it. Whenever Hobbes has to walk around with my dogs, he just steps on them and takes the frisbee for his own. Little swarm of chihuahuas, probably what he thinks. Otterpop hates him for his love of whatever toy she has. He is so ginormous though, that they let Hobbes do whatever he wants. And he barks louder than them. Otterpop usually shuts up though when Hobbes barks. A plus!

photo: Rob Michalski

Rob, Hobbes's owner, took these. He takes a lot of pictures. I am very, very lucky he let me learn to run Hobbes. He's super ultra trained, LAA Platinum. Some good training there, Rob. At first I thought that Hobbes was just my practice dog, learn to run a big fast dog with him. As I got to know him better, realized I just really liked him as a dog. Kind of became his stalker. Rob and Hobbes have both been my mentors of how to run dogs. I don't know what Hobbes thinks of me. Pretty good tugger, likes to run really fast, brings along Trader Joe's Mini Party Meatballs for lying down on the table, doesn't rear cross a whole lot and when you run with Laura, she let's you blow off a-frame contacts sometimes. Keys to Hobbes's border collie heart. He doesn't hate me for making him knock bars sometimes. I basically decided in training Gustavo to see if I could make him a mini version of Hobbes. Somewhere along the line realized that Gustavo is his own dog, and Hobbes is his own dog, and no one is a version of anyone. They are both the best.

Earthquake weather, but in a good way.

How do I explain this? The last couple nights, one of the big reasons that once you live in Santa Cruz, hard to leave. Even when real estate prices too high, rangers too plentiful, traffic too thick, politics too bizarre. Minus tide, stunning sunset, giant flat beaches, and a heat wave. Usually it's just called earthquake weather. Full moon, and tides suck out so far leaving big, flat hard beaches. Never know if earthquake coming or not, 19 years since our last big one. Every little things dogs do weird, wonder, is it coming? Why those horses tails hanging like that? They know something we don't?

No one really goes down to the low tide beaches, it's October. Not beach weather. Not really beaches you would think to go lay around in the sand on anyways. More like stretches of open coast, made for traveling on. So you load up horses in the trailer, or take the dogs down. Separate. No place now you can have them both easily. And Ruby is my only dog that can deal with galloping horses. Gustavo, don't trust him to not get under feet and Otterpop feels the need to herd speed. 15lbs of mean vs. 1100 of hooved. Black Beauty, she's not a horse galloping chihuahua that I can tell, although look how wrong I was on the tote bag thing. Miles and miles of beach from Moss Landing to the Salinas rivermouth where the bird sanctuary is. Or from Seascape out to Manresa, best open beach to run dogs anywhere.

Sun going down, not a cloud in the sky, wearing a t-shirt, millions of birds flying overhead, make you feel like that Lenny Kravitz video inside the dome with the millions of shiney lights. Pelicans and gulls by the million, overhead swarms casting layers of bat shadows that make the horses spook right and left. Dolphins swimming around so close in you can almost see their little eyeballs, riding waves in, doing Flipper tricks just because they know you see them. Screwing around until dark. Just riding or running the dogs while the sun sits low, watching it drop til it's a firey little slit, over the freakish Maxfield Parrish colored water, under the Maxfield Parrish colored sky, just behind the dolphins. Dogs have run out so far, tiny little dots across the flat sand, running impossibly fast and low after some skinny little shore birds, casting these amazing shadows. How does water and sky look like that? Doesn't seem right somehow. Don't even try to take a picture. Won't do to have a crappy picture of that. Just seems wrong. Have to stop and gape as it pops down under the horizon and wonder for a minute. How do you live somewhere where you don't have this?

For better or for worse.

I take Ruby for granted a lot. How often do you come in here, start reading, and think, Oh that Ruby. What a wacky, crazy butthead. Can't learn her weave poles. Does political analysis and shivers? Like, never? What do you even know of Ruby, other than agility makes her tired and creaky some days? Ruby, I write her off as my good citizen of the family, stick a gold star on her ass, and off we go, on and on about whoever is hopping around in the spotlight at that moment. Sister Mary Ruby quietly sleeps on a bed at my feet, does what I ask of her, and that's that. She's 8 years old. You can look at her face and you know she's wise for her years. And somehow that wisdom said she should let herself be completely controlled by Otterpop.


We should all have an Otterpop in our lives. To plan our schedules, decide when we should go outside, where we should sit, where we should sleep, what toys we get, and where we walk. If only Otterpop could cook and knew how to wash the floor. Not sure why Ruby decided that Otterpop got to be in charge, but she did and just follows orders quietly, from the back row. Even though Ruby is twice Otterpop's age, bigger, taller, and the pretty one. For fun times, Otterpop usually plays with Gustavo, and Ruby might play along, or might wander off to eat some seaweed or lay in the dirt. Playing takes a lot of energy, and Ruby likes to conserve hers. She also knows you are not supposed to run off after deer or into seal carcasses or jump into trash cans, and Ruby prefers to play by the rules. Has a look of mortification on her face when anyone does something oh so naughty.

Other than that, Ruby and Otterpop are joined at the hip. It's hard to find photos of just one of them. They are always together, conjoined dog unit. They have a whole dog run at work, but spend all their time wedged together in an old plastic crate on a saddle pad. Could not conceive of not riding in the car together in their blue crate, sleeping on top of each other. Sleep at night rolled up into one ball. Share and share alike, as long as using Otterpop's definition of sharing which is way more creative and dictatorly than what Jesus would do.


Not that they're perfect. They've had tussles in their past, 2 evil bitchy gangster girls with switchblades, where I've had to pull 'em apart. Ruby can only take so much. The terrier in Ruby, and the cattledog in Otterpop sometimes butt heads. Otterpop has seperation anxiety, she always will. When she gets anxious enough, she gets freaky and weird. I locked them all in a friend's horse trailer last night, took some horses out on a low tide sunset beach gallop. Otterpop had a total meltdown, and decided to attack Ruby when we got back and let them out. Freaked me out big time, having my own 2 dogs start a fight. Right back to best friends later on. Those times are few and far between though, and it's rare I don't call them in the house by hollering "RubyOtterpop!"


No one else seems to be able to tell them apart. I always explain the thing about the tails, that Otterpop's is long and Ruby's is a stub, and that Otterpop is speckly and sort of squat. Most people just see 2 bat eared little black dogs and think that they're one and the same. Both jump 12", because Ruby's in Performance now, and Otterpop does Championship. Ruby has a weird jumping style and long legs, Otterpop looks like a tiny little tank motoring around the course. Where I would put the front cross in with Otterpop, I might put in a rear cross with Ruby. Once you know them, they are so different. Otterpop is a loudmouth, demanding, Courtney Love on meth but SO DAMN FUNNY about things she will make you pee in your pants. Ruby is subtle and smart and has Etiquette.


I think about poor Ruby sometimes, what her life would have been like without adding an Otterpop to it. Ruby and I spent a few years with a lot of togetherness. She was kind of feral, and kind of aggressive. She was why I needed to learn about training dogs, and why I spent a lot of time trying to learn about why dogs do what they do. Timmy and the dogs before him, just had nice and happy dog minds. Ruby's mind scared me, it was like having a potential serial killer in the family whose next move you just couldn't predict. One minute cute and bouncy, the next disemboweling a squirrel or launching an attack on an unsuspecting skateboarder. Shrewd and calculating, and always in a deathly fast stealth mode.


Ruby's the one I hand off to toddlers now. Give to anyone to run agility with. Can park somewhere when I have to go off into brush tracking down wayward other dogs and know she'll still be sitting there in the same spot. Everyone else is getting yelled at for whatever sin they just committed, and Ruby just waits quietly, off to the side. Doesn't complain. Doesn't howl. Doesn't bark. Not a comedian, never talks back. Waits for everyone else to be tired of fetching until she takes a turn to bring the tennis ball back, and will bring it right to me every single time. Until Otterpop sees, and takes over the game again. Or just removes the tennis ball because she has just decreed Ruby isn't supposed to have it.


It makes me super happy to look up and see Ruby running with some huskie or lab on the beach or stealing Gustavo's toy and chasing him around the living room. See her letting Black Beauty lick her ear. See her take off her serious nun habit and let loose sometimes. Why I still love to do agility with her, because when we practice, it's me and her and she goes wild but in such a good dog way. If it's a super good day, she'll come over to me, and jump up in my lap. That is a really good day in my house, because that's not something you always get from Ruby. When you see those two next time, give Ruby an extra treat, she's the one that will come over to you and take it out of your hand, because Otterpop thinks you are about to poison her and will just kind of hunker down and glare and maybe want you to throw it at her from a safe distance. Tell Ruby you KNOW she is a really good dog. That you know because I told you so. Maybe sometimes, she's so quiet and busy doing the right thing, I forget to tell her enough. Ruby, you are moving into some big shoes to fill here, but I think you might be Ruby Best Dog.

Oh Yes He Did!

Gustavo did weave poles at Dirt Nite.

Gustavo did weave poles at Dirt Nite!

Gustavo Did Weave Poles At Dirt Nite!!

GUSTAVO DID WEAVE POLES AT DIRT NITE!!!!

I know. The Dow dropped 700 points. There was another debate. There's fires. It's earthquake weather.

But did I mention, out there on the big boy courses with everybody else, that GUSTAVO DID WEAVE POLES AT DIRT NITE!!!!

Weave poles Wednesday-Could it be true?

Could it be? There have been a couple days in a row of weave poles happening, without wires. We may have lost a bit of speed, and I'm a little closer than I might like, but he's doing them! I am not lying here. Wires are currently sitting in the garage.

We practiced today at the field with 2 sets of poles. One set, with cages so I could practice at gambler's distance in a sequence and know he was safely caged in there. Like seatbelts. Training wheels. Water wings. Yes. I put my dog in cages.

But had another regular set out, where I worked closer to him, and used the Otterpop Frisbee Jackpot Award Method from last Weave Pole Wednesday. Think it might be paying off. Here's a recreation from my driveway after work. Just checking to see if they took. Thinking maybe, just maybe... Will test out at Dirt Nite tonite, so X your fingers for him. Cuz it may be that he Haz Polz!

Thanks Otterpop! Monkey see, monkey do.

Aloha mr. dog.

Gustavo's new best friend came for a visit. Everyone say aloha to mr. dog. Gustavo is officially in love with mr. dog. It is possible mr. dog lived with a rodeo clown before moving in with Debra and Jon. Although this fact is not confirmed. But how many dogs do you even SUSPECT once lived with rodeo clowns?


mr. dog commutes from Berkeley to Iowa. He is one very, very lucky mr. dog. He gets his photo taken a lot. Debra dug him a snow maze in their Iowa backyard so he could play outisde last winter. He was very, very happy to go to the beach with his new friends Team Small Dog. Except for later on when someone may have been mean to him while we were at the taqueria. Poor mr. dog. He is very short and Team Small Dog is so plentiful. Usually he does not have glowing red eyes. Thanks for coming to visit, mr. dog!

Cuz we're always living back in Dixon.

You know that Camper Van Beethoven song that starts out about living back in Dixon? Circa 1949? We're all sitting at the fountain, at the Five and Dime. You guys know Camper, right? Right? I guess, theoretically they're from the '80's. Played at parties we went to in college. I think I'm starting to creepy reference myself like an old person now because I always go back to stuff from the 80's and 90's. Ancient history. Like 1949 now, I guess. I throw out Snoop Dogg and Kurt Cobain and Madonna and John Doe so casually into conversation that I forget that they're the Oldies now.

Anyways, I saw them all sitting at sort of the fountain when I drove in though town, at 7am on the dot. All these old farmery guys sitting in a diner, at the counter and at little square wood tables. It was still mostly dark out, nothing else open in town, and you could peer into the bright fluorescent light and see all these old guys in flannel shirts and coveralls and John Deere type caps sitting in clusters. Maybe having coffee before church. Or after feeding cows. Or maybe while wives were at church? Or dog agility? A lot of tract houses fill up Dixon now, where the farms were. Having coffee and talking in low, slow tones about the 80's when there weren't tract houses in Dixon? Or back in 1949 and the price of alfalfa and oil and fertilizer and how maybe these days, time to move to a tract house.

Didn't stop to ask. Because I had to pee and was almost at the fairgrounds for Dixon USDAA Trial for October. 2 hours and 5 minutes from my house. Haven't had an alarm go off at 4:40 in a while, to stumble out of bed in the cold and dark and step on hyper dogs that KNOW we're going to a dog show and start barking and I have to find socks and make the coffee and get in the car and drive. Was one of those days, the re-start of dog shows in the winter. Part of my If-It's-2-Hours-Drive-And-Has-Sunday-Gamblers-I'm-There Campaign for the ADCh of Otterpop.

Left Black Beauty at home so Gary would have a Stay at Home dog. She followed him around and whined all day was the report I got. Sort of a needy little chihuahua. Felt sort of bad leaving her, but thought Gary would like a dog friend and also she has stitches and gets so cold. She needs warmer clothes. Totally get the whole chihuahua clothes thing. Already ordered her a warm chihuahua size horse blanket. Which she will need if she becomes a come along to dog agility shows dog. Gary thinks he might just be ok without a Stay at Home chihuahua and that Black Beauty can rejoin Team Small Dog next time.

So the dog show? Pretty fun for the most part. Dixon has 4 creepy hand hewn, life sized wood statues of bulky people holding livestock or bears. That's big plus of dog shows at Dixon. Gustavo is scared of them. And some nice shady trees. But in terms of actual dogs having a show out there for us, one of those ups and downs day. A little bit 5 faulty. Welcome to the life of a generalist. Specialists, they don't get 5 faults. They are special and have perfection in their dog agility. But maybe cannot draw a cow! Generalist that I am, I'll take 5 faulty over really crappy. I guess it's still a good day when I can say it didn't totally suck. No one was really crappy. No one barked at judges or ran away or made up their own courses. Just some errors here and there. In my dreams, I'm a Specialist, although being firmly rooted in the world of reality, realize that I am a great drawer of cows and that's just how it goes for me.


The Wrap-Up:


Gustavo. Q-stavo. Just knocked out a jumpers course again. It was a weird course too, like the judge wasn't sure how to make an easy starters course and just made this sort of bizarre loop around the field with 2 freako strange handling areas. I was stressed out, Gustavo wasn't, Aloha Mr Hand! I made one weirdo panic handling error at this bizarre thing I can't even explain to you without a diagram. A long, straightish tunnel to nowhere, with no great way to get back over the next jump. He didn't care, just did the course how it was supposed to be done and that was that. Was over in a split second. Gustavo. If you ever learn how to do weave poles, you are going to be my superstar. A superstar who likes to sit outside the ring pretending a frisbee is a mousie and bark at hand hewn wood people holding pigs.

Otterpop. Another Jumpers Q. We have like a million now. Is there any kind of black market you can trade these in for Gambler's Q's? Didn't get the Gamble. I was in a weirdo place to send her in and that was that. 5 faults here, 5 faults there, a couple great runs, a real stinker in Pairs involving a teeter bail, which is just so 2006. Referencing her own ancient history I guess. Her oldies station just started playing that song that I thought was over by now. I think it's a Madonna song. Otterpop. Do NOT stay in the world of Madonna. She is DONE! OVER! Adopting orphans with the Pitt family. Someday you will be 5 years old in dog years, which will be 35 in people years and I am pretty sure if you are 35 you do not think about Madonna. 35 year olds out there, I am right, yes? I think we were just done by the teeter moment. Had some fast runs in the morning, had some slower runs later on. Otterpop, it's always a good day if you just go stick with the plan and don't abort off to a secret stealth judge elimination mission. So thanks for sticking with the plan at least.

Ruby. She just did a couple classes. A lovely and speedy Grand Prix with a knocked bar. Augh! The rest of it, picture perfect, my old Ruby out there. A good way to get your 5 faults. Didn't get the Gamble because did the same crackhead thing I did with Otterpop. Otterpop, who actually has distance commands at least had a chance out there against my suckiness of gamblers handling. Ruby, who it's a crapshoot with to get the Gamble on a good day-you know, my non dog agility friends, when you have to do jumps and tunnels and god knows what else located a mile away by yelling at your dog and waving your arms while standing behind a pink line in the grass-just didn't have a chance in hell. Super fun always, to have those non Gamblers days. Ruby had a nice nap while the rest of us were running around and doing stuff the rest of the day. Ruby is pretty happy to do 2 classes a day I think.

Hobbes. Had one beautiful Standard run that I think he might have won. Although Hobbes, you THOUGHT about maybe not plopping down on that table, but then you thought about that Trader Joe's Mini Party Meatball you knew you would get if you did, that I reminded you 18 times about before you went out in that ring, and down you plopped. But don't think I didn't see you thinking about Not plopping. Had a nice fast jumpers run and yep, a nice 5 faulter bar at the end.

700 billion squirrels!

The other evening, I tried to explain to the dogs about the Commercial Paper Market. And Credit Default Swaps. Oh, and Hedge Funds. And Federal Regulators. Who actually didn't have anything to do with regulating any of the former. Black Beauty is feeling a lot better and she really gets this kind of stuff. How did we not have our own chihuahua before? She was a big Alan Greenspan fan. Oh, Black Beauty. She's hanging her head low these days. But she also has a giant row of stitches across her stomach.


Gustavo can only listen to this for so long. When you start talking to him about a bailout, you mention this guy Paulson, and he thinks you're saying, "700 Billion Squirrels for You!" and then he runs away. Or he thinks you're saying, "It's time for Flea Stuff!" and he runs away. He just wants to do weave poles in the driveway. He could give a little hairy paw about what's going on with the economy. Otterpop and Ruby, they're ready to start stuffing rawhides under the dog beds. Bury them in the yard. Prudent, those two are.


Black Beauty, have you heard about the Stock Injection Plan? Have you heard of this one? Black Beauty? Black Beauty? Hey, where'd you go Black Beauty? I think, what I'm learning about chihuahuas is, that every time they stick their tails between their legs and skulk off, the Dow drops a whole bunch. Sort of like those Christmas angels that ring bell in your ears if you're Jimmy Stewart? Has anyone seen Black Beauty?

You also might like the NPR Planet Money podcast, in case you don't have your own chihuahua yet.

Get well soon Black Beauty.

Black Beauty looks like she lost all her money in the stock market. Really though, just spent a couple days in a very nice animal hospital and came out without a uterus. Now has a giant scar that takes up a whole chihuahua belly and is not allowed to jump up onto laps til I snip those sutures in a couple weeks. Always hard to see your dog or anybody in pain from surgery, how about teensy little blinky bug eyes staring at you and blinking back tears while tiny little shaking feet beg you to pull off that e-collar for better suture licking? Hear that's how some people get their own doctors to let 'em out of hospital early after even more major surgery. Not naming names. Especially if your name is Dad.

Weave poles Wednesday-In Bloom Jackpot Reward Method.

So learned over the weekend that if weave poles anywhere other than my driveway were dead people, I am Bruce Willis and Gustavo is Toni Colette and the rest of the world that only sees alive people. I KNOW those weave poles are there, but Gustavo, just doesn't see them. Maybe sometimes. The almost dead. He sees zombies. He is stuck in Dawn of the Living Dead, but I need him to see dead people. Not really. But you walk through Longs, past the vampire capes and lightup pumpkin decor, and there's all those Reeses, then you buy the first bag of mini Snickers and eventually you start seeing the dead people too.

Soooooo. If you are an agility luminary, I have already quizzed you til you are looking the other way, chatting with someone else about Commercial Paper and how many points the Dow tanked, and I am still yacking your ear off about your good ideas for Gustavo's zombie poles. Tried some of your good ideas, and trying to try them in a way that doesn't confuse him. So nothing too sneaky or different. They do get better, but in teensy weensy tiny increments. I'm not trying to bring zombies back to the living (voodoo), or even make them dead instead of undead (reanimation or miracle) here. I just want him to ALWAYS see the dead and not just the zombies. You get my problem.

So tried this idea today that seemed to work but is somewhat time consuming. What the hell. The economy sucks. My business is having the slows. I got some extra time. So here's what I did. First of all put some of the wires on, entrances and exits. Of the poles, you guys. I am OCD over these poles. That's what I'm trying to explain here. This is all over 12 pvc sticks that dog must wiggle one's body through in a most particular fashion. So sticking on wires is like putting a blanket over a dead person so maybe he doesn't look like a zombie exactly, but like the invisible man and he is wrapped up in mummy tape and his glasses are floating along. Because, is the invisible man a zombie, dead or alive? Did they ever explain that? Do you see him, Gustavo?

Then do some poles. He does them, 6 wires pretty much guarantee the poles are there. I give him a treat. Yay. Good job. But don't really make a crazy big deal over it.

I pull some wires off. Do them again. He does them? I go get the secret jackpot weapon of the dead. Undead. I forget now whose secret weapon.

Otterpop!

Gustavo loves Otterpop like I love blueberries. Like I love taxidermied squirrels in native folk dancing costumes. Like I love talking chihuahuas riding the boxcar freight train over the border. LOVE. Is this a good thing? Like, Kurt Cobain and his darling Courtney Love. Why, oh why, Kurt? Up there in heaven, trying to get Timmy to stop barking at Jane out in the pasture. Bumming a smoke from Paul Newman. You could have had any lovely lady from the grunge era, and you picked Courtney. Courtney is volatile. She is nuts. Screams for no reason. Probably doesn't wear a helmet on her bike. But is one helluva lotta fun. Maybe in a Sid and Nancy way of fun, but it is FUN I tell you.

Fun is what Gustavo craves, and fun with Otterpop is what he gets when he does those poles fast and accurate like my Official Consistent Dog Training criteria demands. So we run over, get Otterpop, get the frisbee and we play insane dog frisbee for a few minutes. Insane dog frisbee, not like Fetch. Like Insane! Barking, biting, attacking with some fetch in there. Then I tie Otterpop up to the fence, send Gustavo back through his little sequence, ends in the poles, he SEES them, HELL YEAH, and go get Otterpop. Insane dog frisbee ensues. Weave poles much super funner and apparently more visible when they involve Otterpop and her frisbee.

Pull more wires off. Rinse, repeat, rinse, repeat. No wires. The poles are looking dead now. Can you see the dead people, Gustavo?

He sees them! More frisbee. Courtney Love! Dragging sweet and sensitive stoner Kurt straight down to the gutter with her. Barking and screaming and bellowing the whole way. Loudly. Biting. This frisbee game would scare poor little Black Beauty. Even Ruby keeps her distance. Krist Novoselic. She KNOWS about Otterpop. Everyone does. But Gustavo LOVES her. She's his muse. She helps him see the dead people with her wild running frisbee attack skills. Weird way to teach those weave poles? Yeah, maybe. But jackpot theory of reward here, Official Dog Training cops amongst you. It seems to be working for now and we're just going with it. Someday, this dog is going to have consistent weave poles somewhere other than my driveway.

You are wondering why Black Beauty provided you with no debate analysis of Tuesday night's debate where they walked around like lounge singers and you got stuck with my zombie weave pole OCD? I had to sit chihuahua-less through John McCain's shuffling around and his throaty little troll laugh coming out of his no neck. He has short arms. She stayed overnight in the hospital after her spay surgery today. Probably her first experience ever with medical anything. Her surgeon, one of my customers who usually is saving dogs from cancer or fixing their bones but who personally opened up little Black Beauty, thinks she's had puppies from how her uterus looked. We're going to say she's 6 years old. So we have a 2yr old dog, 4 yr old dog, 6 yr old dog, and 8yr old dog. Way easier to remember if I make up birthdays in a logical counting order. So she missed the debate to recover in the hospital. And then I couldn't stomach listening to either candidate without my chihuahua so I didn't even finish watching them. It's all sort of making me nauseous right now. I'd rather go work on those weave poles.

I'm not kidding-today I review Beverly Hills Chihuahua.

Today we will call the Day I Said Black Beauty is Here to Stay. To celebrate, I decided I should take BB to the movies because there is a new movie out called Beverly Hills Chihuahua. We are highly suspect of this movie, being a Disney movie about a pampered chihuahua that learns about the school of hard knocks in down and out Mexico then makes it's way back. Starring Drew Barrymore as chihuahua voice. Oh my god. I am sure it will make me cry, but be totally pissed off about racist and classist gender stereotypes and cliches the whole entire time. Disney, dude. They know how to stick that fork in and twist hard. Economic crisis, country gone to shit, but we can have a talking dog movie!

But this is one of the reasons I'm keeping BB. She's a political analyst. Always good to have that point of view for film reviews. Is that a good reason to keep a dog?


So first thing. On a day off when the list of things to do is a whole page long, there is laundry EVERYWHERE, the house is a mess, the refrigerator's broken and there's no food in the house, is to find a tote bag to sneak Black Beauty into the movies. We don't have no fancy dog riding totes around here. Timmy sometimes used an old duffle bag to get snuck into places, but like I could ever stick any of the regular TSD into bags. God save us from that wrath which would ensue.


I figured, it's sort of genetic, right? Chihuahuas like tote bags and sweaters. Comes hard coded? Let's try the fake Marc Jacobs 2004 bag from Target. A bit worn, but exact chihuahua size.

After a bit of a struggle, clear BB not riding in a tote. Ha HA is what she says. I am small and mighty. Now that you decided I am Your Dog, I am ready to start showing you this true chihuahua fact. Tote bag dog my ass. You go and stuff THAT in your tote bag. Just like when Sarah Palin starts baring those scarey little shark fangs she keeps hidden in there.

Oh man. What have I done? Scrappy little feral chihuahua is her hard coding. Remember the evil, feral thing I rescued from that pen 3 weeks ago and how I had to use welding gloves? Sorry Black Beauty. No more tote bags ever again.

Anyone else? Not even going to try Ruby or Gustavo. Just have a feeling. Save their struggles for toenail clipping, another thing on the list of stuff I should be doing today that isn't going to Disney chihuahua movies.


Otterpop?


Oh my god. Poor Otterpop. Who the hell carries dogs around in tote bags anyways? Nevermind. She'd start howling in a dog movie at some point even though I probably could drag her in there, pathetic trooper that she is. Not dragging Otterpop into a movie theater. And she's hella heavy.


So went solo. Can't exactly call anyone up and see if they want to go see a movie like Beverly Hills Chihuahua. Which was fine. Because after endless previews of movies with various animated mice, lions, penguins and a 3-D John Travolta voiced super hero white dog on a sobby cross country journey, within a few minutes I realized as much as I wanted to hate this Disney formula'ed, cliche piece of dog fluff, I couldn't. Completely genius trained dogs with subtly animated mouths that make them just act like dogs except they are talking and carrying the film. The gay pug. The landscaper's Otterpop. The statuesque working police GSD. Mexican street dogs with hearts of gold. Every time a dog frees the other dogs from cages (lots of those kind of situations come up, remember Disney formula of danger and evil always get their due) I almost start weeping. No dog good deed goes undone.

Human actors? Whatever. Jamie Lee Curtis making some bank, a guy that looks like Sayid from Lost, a guy that looks like Gabriel Garcia Bernal. Ho hum. It's all about the dogs. Like when the train scene happens and we think the boxcar chihuahua might roll away without the GSD, tears are just running down my face. Oh my god. I can't take notes anymore. GSD gallops back to the boxcar and jumps in. Just think of any Disney movie, but make the dogs look like they are really talking. I am not kidding you here. The best talking dogs I have ever seen on film. I am the biggest sucker for talking dog movies. I keep f*ing weeping. Am trying to hate the film for it's trite Julia Roberts Pretty Woman bathtub scene and bad writing and dog hats and racist stereotypes, and then the Mighty Chihuahua Army from the Aztec temple ruin saves the dogs from the mountain lions and gives a lecture on how they aren't damn purse dogs. Right? Completely insane. Loved.


Except they don't say damn. Think Disney here.

We know the dog isn't dead at the end because I've lived through 43 years of this Disney crap. I refuse to cry again. We know that cop dogs don't usually do dog agility in a grassy park by the cruise ship near a talking iguana. We know that the dog will find her way home, unharmed. We know the street dogs will all end up with good homes and that Cheech Marin isn't really a rat. But I can't fume and rant about this movie because I could not take my eyes off the dog expressions and amazing dog training that made these dogs carry the whole film.


And to think I tried to shove poor Black Beauty in a bag to drag her along with me. Instead she got to lay around in the dirt with the other dogs all afternoon, listening to Wilco. And then I decided maybe I want to quit horses and get a job training dogs to do weirdo things for the movies. Going out right now to work on Black Beauty's sit. And someone's weave poles. Maybe pull that skateboard back out of storage for a new skateboard trick. A team of circus dogs, anyone?

Every day should be Sunday.

Huevos rancheros. And muffins.


Pull seaweed.


Lose seaweed.


Eat seaweed.


Dog training. Almost looking at the camera.


Dog training. One dog on the pumpkin at the time.


Dog training. Try not to fall off the pumpkin.


Dog training. Try a contact on the pumpkin.


Dog training. Almost looking at the camera.


Dog training. If you're a trained dog, sit still. Untrained dog, sit with Gary.


Go do some agility. At a party! Trained dogs, sit in x-pen until it's your turn. Gustavo did poles. With some wires on. Small steps, yet steps nonetheless.


Untrained dog, sit in a party guest's lap. If you have learned how to climb out of x-pen and run out onto course. BB, agility courses not good places for tiny chihuahua!


Help train the golden retriever to be a dogsled pulling dog. Training consists of running next to dog throwing treats in dog mouth. Learned maybe not everyone wants dog to gallop top speed in the dog cart. Sorry! No one hurt. Seemed like a good idea at the time.


Happy Birthday Rob. Note drawing of Hobbes on cake. I did not draw this.

Save the date for a Lighthouse Field Court Date!

Here's your clip-n-save invitation for Court. Just a reminder. Feel free to download and print and pass out to your friends. Or email it around. I say the more the merrier when it comes to court.


Download, Print, Clip 'N' Save-Fun, Easy, Cheap 'N' Educational!

Or maybe you are an attorney and you're like, Oh My Gawd People who Watched LA Law in the 80's should not be representing themselves and you think Pro Bono legal work for dog ladies is like super fun, and there, you see my email there scrawled on the bottom? You email me and we chat.

And hey, if you're new here, and you're like, Where's Sarah Palin? Where's dog agility? What's going on? Look down. See where it says Labels: Lighthouse Field, and I think that Lighthouse Field is written in RED? If your internet looks like mine. I told it to be written in red but god knows what it looks like by the time it gets to your house. Click on Lighthouse Field. It should take you to much of this long, long story about just walking our dogs where we always have and then the assault weapons and then all the episodes of Courtroom Drama.

Bunny Boy wore a cape emblazoned BB.

Left all the dogs at home last night to see the Residents. You know them. Well, actually you don't. No one does. They used to wear giant eyeballs over their heads to perform, now it's just nylons and bunny ears and big eyelights. And sparkle tuxedos. Their identities are top secret. They're sort of electronic music meets weird performance art production with sets that look like someone's third grade class built and goes crazy with the light show. This performance, the Bunny Boy. Starts out about a creepy and insane redneck who lives in a shed and uses Youtube to find his brother and ends up being about the demise of culture through the apocolypse after the peak of technological advances.

Maybe you had to be there.

With me and a whole bunch of graying and balding guys in black t-shirts stretched tight over guts. And tattooed girls in bunny ears. During the break, we were out in the lobby talking to someone and a girl in a black satin dress, oddly hiked up on one side, came over to us, stared at Gary and whispered, "Are you laughing at me?" We all just stared at her, and she leaned back against the wall, and asked again. "Are you laughing at me?" Then slunk off, staring at us over her shoulder, wild look in her eye.

Came home to an email from a retired couple with a 14 year old jack russell who want a small female dog to hang out and watch tv with them and live in their luxurious house with a genuine yard and a doggy door. They want a dog just like Black Beauty. I told Gary about them and he just stares at me and shakes his head. Then he shuffles off, stares at me over his shoulder, and shakes his head. Got that LOOK in his eye.

I'm not laughing at anyone here. I didn't MEAN to like this dog. Shrimpy little feral chihauhua from the pen up by the trailer. So now what do I do?

Black Beauty-Political Commentary for our Election Season.

So Black Beauty might not really have a future in agility. Pero, yo pienso que tiene a future in political analysis.

Black Beauty doesn't CARE if there was no dog running after a long hard day of sitting in the dog pen at work. Black Beauty understands we have to watch the tv at 6pm sharp to see the debate. Black Beauty has manners that do not involve launching one's self across the room at another dog to steal the squirrel and barking REALLY LOUD and obnoxious. Black Beauty didn't even know about the Minnesota accent until now. But she is enthralled.

I'm going to rent Fargo for Black Beauty soon. She can sit quietly and watch Frances McDormand channel all things Minnesota. Like some of my relatives, whose names I won't tell you to protect their identities here, especially if their names are Mom and Auntie Judy. Sarah Palin sounds just like all of them, you betcha. Golly gee. Don't know why. Never been up to Alaska, it's not really my neighbor, it's attached to a foreign country, which is sort of my neighbor, if you count Oregon and Washington as neighbors but neighbors that are patriotic and American and have Main Streets, then the foreign country, then Alaska, then Russia. If you think about it, yeah, Alaska is basically surrounded by foreign countries. It's just way different up there.

There's different customs maybe. So maybe in Alaska, if someone asks you a question, you just answer it however you want.

Let's play Alaska, Black Beauty. I'll start.

"Black Beauty, do you want to live here with us?"

"Pollo!"

"Black Beauty, inquiring minds want to know how old you are?"

"Pollo! Energy Bill! I want to talk about the Energy Bill now!"

"Black Beauty. You are not answering my questions."

"Because of the Job Creation on Main Street for the American People! Job Creation!"

"Black Beauty. What about climate change?"

Black Beauty pauses for a moment. "No esta caused by peoples. Not peoples. But the magical emissions not cause by the peoples! Drill Baby Drill!"

Wait. Weren't we talking about tax relief?

Black Beauty looks so perky. God, she is just such a cute little dog. That way her little eyes crinkle up when she smiles. "Energy Independence is the Key to the Future!"

"What do you mean, Black Beauty?"

"Reform of government and children of special needs. Pollo! 94 times voted for Pollo!" Black Beauty is watching the tv again. Whenever Biden talks, she starts making her cutey face. I can't listen so much to Biden because there goes gosh darn golly gee cute Black Beauty again with the cutey face. Black Beauty, you have such pretty teeth! Sanrio! Black Beauty, you are like from Sanrio! Joe Biden, you scare the children with your non Sanrio face. Black Beauty can only mug for the camera when Joe Biden talks. Sanrio! Hello Kitty and little penguins. Sparkly eyed little penguins!


Tonight we dream of little penguins. Ones that might be experiencing climate change but for all natural causes that might be emissions but not emissions caused by man. By other little penguins? Wait. Sanrio penguins or Alaska penguins? Are there penguins in Alaska? Or maybe extinct from global warming? I forget. I know they taught her that, deep down in the McCain Chamber of Quick Learning for tv appearances. So just ask Sarah Palin. She has all the answers.

Aloha, Mr. Hand.

You guys remember Jeff Spicolli? Total stoner, went to Ridgemont High. My high school, your high school. Everone's high school. Aka Sean Penn in a baja shirt with fringey bangs. Gustavo is Spicolli. I am pretty sure if he could talk, he'd say Duuuude. A lot. For every occasion. He was always baked. For ever occasion. Pretty good dude though. Just a little bakey.

This is Gustavo. I don't think he sits in a van smoking pot, if he does, he's way sneakier than I ever gave him credit for. But it finally dawned on me. He's just a complete stoner dude. Just happy and grinny, a little paranoid (he's outside right now barking at garbage cans that are in a weird place in front of the house), a little late, a little hungry, but really, a good guy.

So the stoner runs at Dirt Nite now. Had never really put him in there, sometimes took him out to do a teeter and a dogwalk here and there during beginning classes. He didn't like the dirt clumping up on his fur, was loud, just kind of too much for him. So the other week, I just brought him out with my dogs and decided to see if he could run a course in our late class, when I run Ruby and Hobbes and Otterpop. Just for kicks, see what he thinks of those hard courses.

He thinks, duuuude. And just runs around them. Like he gets it. Last night, stuck him in the rotation of everyone, so he kept getting turns, let him run 3 or 4 whole courses. Some hard discriminations, hard turns, many contacts, and duuuuuude. Like so nailing it. What's the big thing of this? Let's RUN! Skipped all the poles with him, except for once. Total stoner. Decided to just see. What the hell. He actually had poles on Tuesday when I practiced with him out at the field, not every time, but a couple times hit them hard and flew threw. A couple times, not so much.

Gave him one chance to try it. Masters Level agility course, not where you are supposed to be teaching a dog weave poles. Came thru a tunnel, saw the poles, flew up on the a-frame. OK. Was a pretty sneaky, I-am-sneaking-out-to-the-van-for-a-bong-hit-sneaky, run behind me to get on that a-frame. Clearly avoiding the poles. Threw him back in that tunnel for one more try, sent him to those poles just like how we Now Do in the Driveway, lovely independent and fast straight poles.

So what did he do?

Duuuuude. I wish I was going to tell you he is like the stoner savant, and just sailed through on the second try, fast and accurate and perfect. I so wish that was what I was going to tell you about here. Instead, sort of missed the entrance, did a section in the middle, came out, and just kept on running. Duuuuude. Didn't push it, didn't use precious Dirt Nite time to start teaching poles. But we have a lot of work to do still. Clearly.

But dude. Look how Sean Penn turned out? Upstanding citizen, political activist, important movie director and actor with serious attitude, used to beat up paparazzi for Madonna. Not too bad. If Spicolli can do all that, Gustavo can learn those poles.

What Would YOU Give Up?

Black Beauty offered to have her photo taken FIVE times, if it would help elect Barack Obama. For a little sidekick, that is dedication. Thanks, Black Beauty.


Otterpop said she would shut up and stop barking so we can hear the news up until the election, and also would be willing to give up those 4 Gambler's Q's that are keeping her from her ADCh (That is her BIG Championship thing, my non agility friends) to keep McCain out of office.


Ruby said she would give up her flawless running dogwalk contact. That she practiced all summer long. Ruby, you have the heart of a saint.


Gustavo said if it helps Obama move to the White House, he will donate all running a-frames for as long as he needs to.

Although we practiced today. And I videoed EVERY SINGLE A-FRAME. All dogs. Won't torture you with this super boring video of dogs running down their a-frame contact. Except with the info that no one, Gustavo included, missed a contact. Or nearly missed one. All were inside the same contact zone as usual, same zone for each dog. Thanks, puzzlement of why so many missed contacts only on JIM'S a-frame.


So he thought he'd give up poles. You know, like giving up chocolate for Lent. I say that doesn't count. If it gets Obama elected, Gustavo donates running a-frames just in trials.

So if you start seeing some way sloppy agility from Team Small Dog coming up, it is for a really good cause.