Want to Do 'Gility, Beau?

Heart Dog

Many people say they have a "heart dog," that special dog that touches them down to their very core. Beau was mine. I purchased him in 2001 from Kajun-Fox kennel not because I thought that dogs from breeders were superior in any way, but because I had a specific dog that I wanted in mind.

Beau was the first puppy I had ever purchased from a breeder. I had recently lost my wonderful Oma, also a purebred Toy Fox Terrier, whom I had purchased from a pet store. Because she had been a large-for-the-breed black tricolor female with a wide blaze, I wanted her complete opposite: a white and tan male with a solid-colored head, on the small size if possible. After a year of searching, I found Beau. He was from a small show kennel in Madisonville, Louisiana and his breeder was willing to let him go for a mere $500, quite a significant price for the breed at the time.

I drove for 10 hours to meet him. All the other puppies continued playing between themselves when I walked into the room. Beau ran right over to me, sat on my foot, and untied my shoelaces. Thus started a relationship that lasted over 12 years.

Big Plans

As Beau's breeder handed him over to me, she handed me a slender cord with a sliding bead on it. The cord had a closed loop of some kind of fabric at the end of it. It was the first time I had ever seen a martingale show lead. I had no idea what I was looking at. "It's not a requirement of the purchase," I remember her saying, "but why don't you try him out at a couple of shows? I think he'll do well. I'd have kept him and shown him myself if I'd needed another male."

And he did do well. We drove hours and hours to his first show, a tiny United Kennel Club (UKC) show that was held in a state park. We had a lot of fun, even if we were just in the puppy classes. I got to see breeds I had only heard of and saw parakeets roosting in the trees! Beau sat across a picnic table from an American Pit Bull Terrier and barked at it--and all the big dog did was "grin" and run its tongue out at the puppy. I got bit by the bug, hard. No sooner had we gotten back home than I was making Big Plans for my tiny puppy. He was handsome and he was smart. Someday, he would be a Total Dog.

Earning a Total Dog is a difficult task. It requires that a dog earns a "leg," a qualifying score, in a performance event, during the same show at which he or she earns a win in the conformation classes. At the time, we could have trained to compete in agility, obedience, or weight pull. I had little room to train agility and no access to a weight pull club. I decided that I would start him out on obedience right away, to give him the best chance possible.

Life Gets in the Way

Sometimes, things just don't work out the way you planned. I lost my job in Texas, where UKC events and dog-related activities were common and was forced to move to someplace less expensive to live on the separation package I had been given. Beau was as smart and as handsome as I had hoped, but the area I chose had no UKC events available to me, unless I traveled back to Texas. We "finished" him in AKC; that is, we earned his champion title. He was owner-handled throughout, making the title even more precious, but it still was not the Total Dog I had dreamed about. We earned his Canine Good Citizen certificate and pushed on to his Companion Dog title. We earned his Rally Novice title. Beau even went on to be the first Toy Fox Terrier ever to win a Rally Advanced title with the AKC. He had everything he needed to be a Total Dog and I called him one in my heart.

As the years passed and a Total Dog became impossible--he'd already finished his UKC champion degree and was not successful in his career for grand champion--I changed goals. We would work toward our Versatile Companion Dog title in AKC. He already had his AKC champion title, as well as his novice obedience title. "All" we needed was his two agility titles and his tracking title. We still had time. Even at eight, he was still young and vital enough to enjoy agility.

I found a club in Baton Rouge that offered everything we needed to move on to higher titles: obedience classes, agility classes, even the occasional Rally classes. The club sponsored tracking trials on occasion, so there was even a chance I'd have an opportunity to learn more about them. We started training three nights a week--traveling 90 minutes from my home!--while I was going to university and working. It was exhausting, but Beau loved every second of the classes. He was a natural in agility. He would have run across the longest dog walk to do a blind cross into a jump over the moon if I'd asked him to do it. He loved me--and agility--that much.

We trained for two years, building his strength and ability while developing my knowledge and handling skills. We progressed from on-leash basic exercises and groundwork to basic skills on the equipment. After much effort and clumsy handling, up to and including my going head-first over a couple of wing jumps, we progressed to the point at which he could work independently from me! We were ready!

The Best Birthday Present, Ever

The agility trial was to take place in Mobile, AL on my 50th birthday that spring. It's so hard to believe that was over TEN YEARS ago! The trial was outside, under cover, but the weekend was warm enough for short sleeves. We were running a bit late, but got to the trial in plenty of time, well before we needed to compete. I was a bit, shall we say, stressed, but Beau took the whole thing in stride. He could see the equipment from where we pulled into the parking lot, and he wanted to go now. But no, first we had to find the VMO. Then we could unpack the car, do some warm-up exercises, get a course map.

Knowing your dog's accurate height is very important when competing in agility, considering that a dog must clear many jumps over the course of an agility career. When a dog first begins to compete in AKC agility, he or she needs to be measured in order to participate in a trial. This measurement takes place before the dog competes in his or her first class at that trial and does not have to be repeated at the same trial. The measurements are done by the volunteer measuring official (VMO) or by an official AKC agility field rep. These measurements are recorded on the dog's temporary measuring forms. A dog receives his or her permanent height card after two consistent heights are recorded by two different officials. The permanent height card permits the dog to bypass being measured before competing. Beau was not happy to stand for the measurement, as he had never been under a wicket before, but he officially measured at 10.5 inches at the shoulder.

After Beau was measured, we walked around the trial, watching other dogs make their runs and learning what we could from other teams. There were so many young trainers and dogs around us--how could we compete with them?! Every single team seemed better prepared then I was with Beau. Suddenly, I was afraid. I wanted to go home. Beau, on the other hand, could barely contain his excitement. We stayed, but only for Beau. No matter how poorly we did, at least he would have fun.

In the Ring

Agility trials post a running order at the time entries open. At that particular trial, the running order was Master > Excellent > Open > Novice B > Novice A. All those classes would also run "tall to small," starting with the 22-inch+ jump heights descending to the 8-inch class that Beau and I competed in. I had plenty of time to practice my footwork in the parking lot, play with Beau in the field, and study the course map.

"Plenty of time," but not enough time. All too soon, the Novice dog handlers were being called into the ring for the walk-through. I spent as many of those ten minutes practicing moves with my "invisible" Perfect Dog, using the signals and the verbal commands I would give to Beau. My legs were wobbly by the end of the walk-through, but not because of the exercise. No, they were wobbly because all too soon, we'd be making our debut! I prayed hard that I wouldn't do anything that would embarrass my dog--and that Beau wouldn't decide to play "Embarrass the Human!" It was all I could do to walk Beau into the ring and hand the leash to the steward.

We Run!

We stood at the start line, waiting for the buzzer to sound. "Beau, sit," I commanded. He sat--and sit meant 'sit until told to do something else'. I walked past the first single jump, then the second, still in his line of vision. I turned to face Beau, half-expecting to see him kiting across the arena and toward the car. No. He sat patiently, expectantly. I thrust out my arm, behind the second jump.

"Beau, hup!"

He was to me before I knew it. I turned in toward the next obstacle and we were off. Beau was flying, clearing every hurdle by four inches more than needed. His feet clattered along the inside of the tunnel as he galloped through to meet me on the other side. He whined with anticipation during the wait on the pause table:

Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Go-o!

He never set a foot wrong in the weave poles, before bursting forth to the A-frame. He stepped over the top and raced toward the bottom before crossing the ring to the dog walk. A few more jumps. Our run was over. It was time to collect our leash and check our score. We had at least qualified. I could see other club members smiling, so I knew we had done well.

Beau had scored a 100 0f 100 points.

My tiny dog had given the best 50th birthday present anyone could ever have given to me. I will never forget that day as long as I live.