All-Around Quintessentially IWS

At my first Specialty in Auburn, Washington, I had no brain space at all to pay any attention to what was going on around me. I had Cooper, a real handful of a young Irish Water Spaniel boy. Bathing, grooming, feeding, walking, keeping out of trouble – all that, and trying desperately not to be nervous about showing my dog.

My second Specialty, in Frederick, Maryland, was much more relaxed. My girl Tooey was there, but she’d been transported and cared-for by her co-owner. So I could have noticed more of what was going on, but all I really remember was meeting a whole bunch of wonderful people, watching the dogs work at the WC/X test, being so pleased that Tooey and her handler Carl won 1^st in Junior Showmanship, and absolutely loving the fact that a Gun Bitch took Best of Breed. Everything else has fallen away.

This time – my third Specialty, the 75^th Anniversary Irish Water Spaniel Club of America Specialty in Wilmington, Ohio – this time, I have no excuse for not remembering everything. I had no dog of my own there, and only one borrowed puppy to show. But when I had people at home asking me, “What were the conformation results?” — I realized that I was still not able to give a full report.

So, even though I don’t have a lot of specific memories of the things that people want to know, I do have more personal memories about this 75^th Anniversary Specialty that have stuck in my mind.

For me it started with rushing from the airport to the show site to make it in time for the club’s General Meeting, after having had little sleep in the previous 24 hour hours and less food. I really did want to learn about changes that have come and are coming to the club, and to hear what the various committees are doing. After an hour and a half, though, I finally had to take a bio break. I came away wishing that the meeting had been just a bit shorter, and that I’d been there at the end when there was apparently a mention of a link between cancer and Symmetrical Lupoid Onychodystrophy (SLO).

Then there was the buffet banquet and silent auction. I shared a drink with Tim and Ruth, and then wandered the tables, my eye falling on one item that included a book and three leashes. I wanted those leashes, so I kept bidding up. It didn’t take long to realize that I was pretty much just bidding against Pam. We both kept hanging around that particular table, and finally Pam mentioned to me that she really wanted that book. She’d met the author in her childhood and had fond feelings for him. When I told her that I didn’t care about the book, I just wanted the leashes, we both laughed. By the end, Pam had the winning bid, and very generously gave me the leashes.

Not much later, I fell into bed. I was lucky. Susan had very kindly offered to let me share her room, so I had a place to sleep. And the fact that the hotel and the show site were all in one large complex made getting back and forth so easy.

Next morning, I’d intended to go to Mary’s tracking seminar. Perhaps that seems kind of silly without a dog, but I wanted to go anyway. Tracking looks like a lot of fun, and maybe I’d learn something. But the weather had other ideas – cold, windy, and pouring down rain. I don’t think any of the other tracking-hopefuls ventured out into the nearby but soggy soccer fields, either.

So instead I went to the Judges Seminar. Colleen, Florence, Deb, and others gave the one judge and a bunch of spectators like me the commentary based on their decades of experience, illustrated with slides taken from the club’s new Illustrated Standard. I’m not a person who particularly notices conformation, but this time, the information about tail set and what “rectangular” means finally stuck. Maybe if I keep going to these Judges Seminars, I’ll get the whole dog together in my mind.

After lunch, I got dressed in my show clothes, and then walked to the grooming area next to the show ring. What I sight! Some people already in their show clothes, some not yet, and some changing into show clothes right out there in the middle of everything.

And all ages and stages of IWS! Some being made ready to go into the ring, and others getting ready to go to new homes. Some just hanging out, having done the WC/X, Obedience, Rally, or Agility earlier in the week. I was there to help Linda by showing one of her stud dog’s puppies. Puppy Ellie and I needed time to get to know one another. Ellie was a sweet girl, but nervous, jealous when her best buddy got taken out of his crate, and not at all interested in any of the different kinds of treats offered. So instead of concentrating on the other dogs in the conformation ring, I spent my time helping Ellie get groomed and accustomed to me at the same time. I even borrowed some Rescue Remedy from Greg, hoping that would help calm her.

Too soon it was time to go into the ring for the Puppy Bitches 9 – 12 class. Ellie was in first, and didn’t much like all those other puppies being in the ring behind her where she couldn’t see them. I couldn’t get her to face front and stack for more than a few seconds at a time, but once we got going, I could get her to gait nicely. The judge was kind and patient, and even called me Ma’am, as he directed us to the go-round and the up-and-back.

I did take a short break to watch a bit of the Best of Breed ring, and admired how methodical the judge was in winnowing down from about 28 dogs. Some dogs moved like they were floating, others couldn’t help but bounce, and some raced their handlers around the ring. All were beautifully showcased in the large blue-carpeted ring, lit by an elegant crystal chandelier.

I don’t remember who all won what. I remember that Riley won Best of Breed and that Porter took Best of Winners, because I know their owners. I remember that Joey got Select Dog because I love it when Gun Dogs do well. I noticed that none of the dogs looked very much like my Tooey, who was imported from England. And I remember Ellie, the squirmy little puppy that I borrowed and tried to coax around the ring and into a stack. All the other dogs in the ring…? I wish I remembered each and every one.

The part of showing that I am the most stressed by is grooming, so I did notice all the different styles of grooming. Some groomers left a lot of fringe on the belly; others scissored the belly coat up tight. Some dogs had sculpted, blown-out legs; others had legs with natural curls and ringlets. Some had long flowing locks on their ears, some were trimmed somewhat, and one dog had ears that were sculpted and shaped so precisely that every hair stayed in its exact place. None did what I am sorely tempted (but have never had the guts) to do: take my two hunting IWS, clip their coats into an short easy field cut that still somehow does not obscure the curl, and show them that way.

After Best of Breed, it was time for me and Ellie to go back into the ring for the Stud Dog class. She did a bit better this time, and her owners were happy. It’s so much easier to show someone else’s dog – I was even able to breathe the whole time.

By this time, it was late Friday afternoon, so I opted to skip lunch and just chill out for an hour or so until the Awards Banquet. I perused the vendors’ tables, looking at snoods, glass art, books and prints, embroidered T-shirts, the printed Illustrated Standard booklets, and all the other merchandise. Along the way, I chatted with Carolyn, Marilyn, Susanne, Lynn, Sharon, Wendy, Helen, Debbie, Deb, Wayne, Susan, Deb, Brenda, Rebecca, Lois, Judith and Jim, and so many others. That was a major goal for my coming to this Specialty – to meet and talk with people I only know through Facebook and the various Yahoo groups.

For me, the highlight of the Specialty, my real reason for flying out all that way from Oregon, occurred Friday night. Not the banquet, although my glass of bourbon was welcome and the beef and the vinaigrette dressing was very tasty. And not the auction, even though Greg makes giving money to the club about as fun and funny as it can be. I came out for the Awards.

For weeks before the Specialty, I debated about whether or not to go. It’s a lot of money. I wouldn’t have my husband or dogs along. I would have to miss two days of work. I would be spending a lot of hours stuck in an airplane or waiting for one. I wouldn’t get much sleep, and I’d probably eat too many carbs. But then I realized that I would always regret it if I didn’t go to the Specialty and pick up Cooper’s AKC All-Around IWS award myself.

Last year, Cooper won the Top Retriever Hunt Test IWS award. I was surprised and pleased that he got that, but I didn’t regret not being there to get it myself. But for this All-Around award, I really wanted to be there, to share the experience with all these other people who can truly appreciate what that award means and what it takes in love, money, time, and effort to earn it. My non-dog friends (and yes, I have some) don’t get it. Cooper is Russ’ and my first purebred dog, our first performance dog, our first Irish Water Spaniel, and our first experience with training and showing our dog ourselves. This is our first All-Arounder. And I knew that if I didn’t go to this Specialty, to receive this award among the people who really do get it, I would very much regret it.

So I flew out to Ohio, and went to the 75^th Anniversary Irish Water Spaniel Club of America’s Specialty Show. And on Friday, when Karen called out Cooper’s name, I walked to the podium, and shook her hand, and received the award. People applauded, as I applauded for them. I’ll never forget that moment, even when my memory of much of the rest of the show falls away.

And then, to top it all off, Cooper also received the new and beautiful art-glass Quintessential Versatility Award for having 5 titles in 5 different venues. For Cooper, that was the three All-Around titles — show championship (CH), a retriever hunt test title, and an Obedience title of CD or better — plus his Rally Novice and Junior Hunter Upland titles.

Thank you, to Karen and her Specialty committee, the Awards committee, to Rosemary and Tammy, and all the people in the Irish Water Spaniel Club of America, for making it possible.

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Fieldwork is teamwork, part 1

Bright blue skies, bright white powder snow, bright blaze orange worn by the people and dogs. That’s my impression now, looking back on it. That, plus sage brush, stands of juniper, and tall clumps of grass scattered along the field. Breathing hard, trying to keep up with the dogs, pulling through a foot of powder with every step, tramping along ruts cut in a small road, down hills, into a cattail- and willow-filled, half-frozen stream along the bottom of the draw. From time to time, the sudden flutter of wings as pheasants were flushed from their hiding places. And the dogs, each one in turn, panting with excitement and effort, themselves becoming more and more bespangled with heavy white balls of snow.

Just as it was getting light yesterday, Tammy, Russ and I, plus three Irish Water Spaniels, left Portland and drove east along the Columbia River and then up and over the Deschutes River into the high ground above Maupin, Oregon. We were there to hunt pheasants. Unlike Tooey, Cooper hadn’t had his share of the bird hunting yet this season, and his brother Mowgli wanted a chance to fine-tune his bird sense.

With three dogs and three people, we quickly formed working teams, each with two gunners, a dog handler, and a dog. We started out with Tammy handling her Mowgli, with Russ and I gunning. It didn’t take long, maybe only 10 minutes of quartering back and forth, road to draw, when Mowgli flushed a pheasant. The bird flew right into range of Russ’s gun. Russ downed the bird, and Mowgli, true to his retriever training, marked the bird’s fall, retrieved it, and delivered it to Tammy’s hand.

The three us covered the length of that field, and Mowgli did his job, flushing up three more birds. We shot at two of them, but we gunners were apparently not warmed up enough, because we missed them all. Mowgli tried to help the situation by running down into the draw, across the pond, and up the opposing hill, chasing after one that got away. But when it became apparent that he would never catch it, Tammy called him back.

By this time, Mowgli was carrying at least 5 pounds of snow on his belly and legs. So we turned and headed back.

After we rubbed as much snow off Mowgli as we could and put him up in the warm car with a bucket of water and some food, we got Tooey out for her turn. Not that we expected that Tooey would get any birds from the area that Mowlgi had just worked, but we did have to give her a turn. She hates being left out, and this way, there would be at least the appearance of fairness.

Russ handled Tooey, while Tammy and I held the shotguns. Tooey, unlike Mowgli, didn’t quarter the field, but spent most of her time in the draw. The stream had dammed up a bit at the beginning of the field, and the resulting pond was frozen. Too bad for Tooey, who loves to swim. She continued to work in and around the willows and cattails, getting birdy a few times where some of Mowgli’s birds had been. Toward the far end of the field, she found the unfrozen section of the stream, and went in and out, washing off the snow that was accumulating on her belly and legs. Finally, we turned around, walked back along the road, back to the car. We spend a few minutes rubbing Tooey to get the snow off, put her up in the nice warm car, and then had some lunch.

After lunch it was finally Cooper’s turn. I’ll cover that in the next post. Stay tuned…

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Walking in Wales with friends and dogs

While in Wales, we had a number of amazing and fun adventures: Caerphilly Castle, the Welsh Life museum, a tour and tasting at the Penderyn Distillery, the dog show, the field trial, a Joshua Bell and St. Martin in the Fields concert at St. David’s Hall in Cardiff, and sitting around the dinner table eating Sandie’s wonderful cooking and talking with our friends.

But I think of all of them, my favorite were the daily walks. Martyn has the very good fortune to live within 10 minutes of a wide variety of terrain where he can walk his dogs. Plus, he lives in dog heaven — rural land veined with foot paths, public right-of-ways that have existed for centuries, allowing the public access through private farms, pastures, woodlands, and even a quarry. Sometimes walkers have to crawl over fences and through gates, but the right of access still exists.

Martyn makes sure his 5 dogs go for a long walk twice a day. And while Russ and I were there, one or both of us went along each time. One day, Martyn and Sandie, plus three dogs, went to two beaches, which were about 45 minutes away, and well worth it (even during the fierce 10-minute downpour).

Here are some pictures from our walks:

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Fan mail again!

This blog’s Favorite Photographer got fan mail today. So appropriate since said FP’s favorite beers are usually the dark and hearty porters and stouts.

Card by Bryn Parry

This card will definitely go into the collection. The sender got the card in the UK on a trip there recently. The artist is Bryn Parry. Although his studio has a website, I didn’t see this card listed. I guess we’re just very lucky to get one.

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Magnet: All-Around IWS

When I first visited Tammy’s house, I was intrigued by a particular magnet stuck onto her refrigerator. It turned out that her dog Balloo, Cooper’s sire, had earned the distinction of being an AKC All-Around IWS. An All-Arounder is an Irish Water Spaniel that has earned a show championship (CH), an Obedience title (CD or better), and a retriever hunting test title (JH or better).

I was impressed. And later I realized that both of Cooper’s parents had earned that award. But at the time, it did not particularly occur to me that I would go for such a thing myself.

But now, about five years later, in today’s mail, I received a magnet of my own to show off Cooper’s achievement. It is displayed proudly on my refrigerator. It sits next to a variety of other magnets, like the Hunting IWS magnet given to us by Hank and Holly.

Such a good life we’ve created with our dogs, and the people we’ve met through having these dogs in our lives.

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Finally puppies, part deuce

Well, I ended last night’s post too early. Tooey delivered two more puppies for a total of 10 (so far). 7 boys and 3 girls.

Tooey was about out of milk after almost exactly 12 hours of whelping, so I ran to the store for goats milk and baby bottles.

We fed the pups who were still hungry and now we’re ready for bed. Every dog is full and tired. The humans are just tired.

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Senior Hunter goes hunting

CH Realta Rosario Cooper SH CD RN CGC, aka “Cooper,” spent yesterday doing what he really loves to do — finding his own birds to retrieve. A week ago, when Cooper got his CD title, we scheduled one last hunting trip to central Oregon with Norm and his Boykin Spaniel, “Scarlett,”  before the close of the season on March 31. So less than 24 hours after earning his AKC Senior Hunter title, Cooper got to go from retrieving ducks on Saturday to finding and retrieving pheasants on Sunday.

Cooper, taking a break with Mt. Hood in the background

The high dessert of Oregon is one of the nicest places to be working with your dogs at this time of year. There had been 7″ of new snow just 4 days earlier, and now the temperatures were pushing into the low 50′s. The pleasure of hunting over Cooper and Scarlett is always enhanced by being outdoors with good friends, basking in the spring sunshine, and watching these two curly brown dogs solve the problem of finding birds in their own distinctive ways.

Cooper, a typical male Irish Water Spaniel at 65 pounds, put his nose to the ground and started going after scent. Once he picked up a trail, off he went looking for the source. Once he spotted a bird, he hesitated with a momentary “point” and then flushed the bird. Scarlett, a female Boykin Spaniel weighing in at just 26 pounds, covered the ground with a delightful close quartering action at full speed. The birds had no choice but to flush with that kind of action.

Between the dog’s hunting skills and Norm’s good shooting, we were able to bring home 5 pheasants. The dogs flushed 7 birds in total and they marked and retrieved every bird that we successfully brought down. (My own shooting success was limited to one bird down and delivered to hand.)

Scarlett, with one of her retrieves

A day spent working behind skilled Spaniels in the field is just about as good as it gets.

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Social media addenda

Sometimes I love social media. Thank you all for sharing my happiness with Cooper’s CD:

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The Ultimate Mini Cooper

Getting into the Irish Water Spaniels as a breed has brought many changes and additions into our lives (as chronicled in this blog), but one of the best things is the amazing people we have met who have become fast friends. One I would like to highlight is Carol.

We have posted numerous times in this blog about one of her dogs, Scarlett, a Boykin Spaniel she co-owns with her husband Norm. While Carol does not actively run Spaniels in hunt tests, she has been an active member, officer, and board director of the Lower Columbia Hunting Retriever Club. A number of the photos I have posted of upland hunting with Norm and Scarlett have been taken by Carol. She does run a Tibetan Terrier in AKC Agility trials and drives horses in competition, so running dogs in hunt tests would just be an unnecessary burden on her time. But in what limited spare time she has, Carol is an Oregon Master Gardener and artist in many mediums.

Last summer at a fund raising event, I was high bidder at a silent auction for a custom-made felted dog sculpture made by Carol. I got to choose my breed, and of course I went with an Irish Water Spaniel. Most of the other bidders were Labrador Retriever owners, so Carol was probably expecting a simple project with a smooth coat and maybe a color choice between Black, Chocolate, or Yellow (you know all those Labs look alike). Undaunted by my request, she asked for reference photos, even though she is familiar with the IWS breed and is friends with Cooper and Tooey. We even supplied a bag of clipped Cooper coat for the basis of the felted creature. What Carol produced was the ultimate Mini Cooper.

Not only is this a three-inch version of an Irish Water Spaniel, but for those who know Cooper, you will recognize the specific inspiration for this rendition. Compare the felt sculpture to the photo below that I supplied Carol as a reference.

In her drive for detailed perfection, Carol needed to find some hair that would curl correctly at that size and look appropriate for a miniature Irish Water Spaniel with tight curls. Her research found some wool from a breed of sheep named Coopworth (really, we did not make up this name). She twisted several strands at time and then inserted them into the body, . . .  hundreds of times. Carol even included Cooper’s extra facial hair curls because she knows we like them, even though they are generally kept trimmed for the confirmation ring.

To put this small creation in scale with the real thing, I asked Tooey to take a look at this masterpiece while I made this photo.

Mini Cooper and Ms Tooey

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If you’re gonna hunt pheasants in the rain…

I hate pouring-down rain. If I have to be outside, or even if I choose to be outside, pouring-down rain is my least favorite weather. That, and frozen rain. Grick.

So, guess what kind of weather we typically get in December in western Oregon? You got it. Pouring-down rain. But this winter, we’ve been beguiled. It’s been dry and cold, not wet. So a hunting trip down in the Umpqua River valley seemed perfect for our Christmas vacation.

The Big K Ranch is a beautiful place. It’s just the place to go when you want a lovely setting, great hospitality, comfortable cabins, delicious food, and good pheasant hunting. That’s my kind of hunting trip.

Russ hunting in front of the Big K lodge and cabins

We had all of that, plus pouring-down rain. But if you’re gonna hunt in the rain, you better take an Irish Water Spaniel. Or two. Plus a Boykin Spaniel for variety, and friends for good company.

Norm and Scarlett, the Boykin Spaniel, quartering the field

We hunted two fields, each about 100 acres. The first run, we took Scarlett, handled by Norm, with Russ and Kent as gunners. Scarlett bounded, jumping up and over the cover, quartering the field. She flushed one pheasant, which got away, and then found two or three additional birds. But as you know, it was pouring down rain. The pheasants didn’t want to fly in the rain, so they ran along the ground. Scarlett gave chase, but the pheasants were faster, and ran into the thick, thorny brambles that filled a ditch along the center of the field.

Cooper hunted the second field, with me as handler in the center of the field and Russ and Kent again at the edges as gunners. Cooper found his first rooster, which did its best to run and then fly away low. Cooper fired his afterburner, and after almost getting the bird several times, pulling out tail feathers with each grab, he finally caught the bird and delivered it to me alive.

That experience turned the lightbulb on over Cooper’s head. Wow! There are birds out here! Over the next hour or so, he quartered the field and flushed three more pheasants. One got away, but two were shot, retrieved, and delivered.

Russ and Kent admiring Cooper's pheasants

Toward the end of the morning, the rain lightened up just a bit, and we decided to take Tooey out into the field that Scarlett had hunted earlier that morning. Tooey has sometimes been really excited about birds, but other times she’s been sort of ho-hum. So we decided just to see what would happen. Tooey quartered the field beautifully, without much handling. She’d run to one side of the field, get to that gunner, and then turn around to run to the other side.

I’d say that Tooey was mostly just out to see what was out there, maybe a mouse or a vole (she likes critters). But at one point, she trotted out past the edge of the field we were working and into the cover off to the side. And wow! She flushed her first pheasant! Russ shot it, and Tooey raced off to retrieve it and deliver it to hand, just like we’ve been training.

Tooey looking pleased with her first pheasant

We hunted a bit more, but by that time we were all tired and dripping wet. But happy. Handling my dogs and watching them work in concert with the gunners made me forget all about the rain.

Wet gunner, wet dogs, wet pheasants -- but who cares about the rain?

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3rd autumn pheasant hunt, day 2

Subtitle: The hawk, the porcupine, and the beavers.

Yesterday morning, our 2nd day of this trip, we walked through a field of grasses and thorny rose bushes, lines with small, cattailed ditches and culverts. Cooper did a much better job out in this more open and somewhat flatter field. He ranged ahead of Russ and quartered the field, looking for birds.

Cooper

Cooper quartering the field, Tooey following along

Rio did the same job for Rod, working out front, searching for birds.

Alas, no birds.

So after lunch, we headed over to the much prettier and more dramatic Upper Goose Lakes. The terrain is much like what we saw Friday at Lower Goose — basalt cliffs, strings of small ponds, Russian olive trees, and sage brush — totally non-urban scenery. But the action was quite a bit more dramatic.

The first incident was with the ducks and the goshawk.

As were walking down the hill toward the first series of lakes, we saw ducks sitting in the water. So Rod, Renae, Russ and I quietly made our way down to the base of the canyon. Renae and I held the dogs while the Rod and Russ crept toward the lake, hoping to surprise the ducks. And surprise them they did. In a flurry of flapping wings, the ducks flew away from the two gunners, who got off several shots.

All of a sudden, a goshawk swept in from nowhere and grabbed one of the ducks. In the hawk’s talons, the duck struggled in mid-air. After a few minutes, the hawk dropped the duck into another pond. We thought about sending the dogs after the duck, but by then, the duck had managed to hide itself in the cattails at the water’s far edge. That would have made a 200+ yard blind retrieve in cold water and then tangled cattails. We decided not to pursue it, and walked on.

And then there was the porcupine.

I wrote in my last post about Tooey’s love for the water. Whenever she disappeared, we could pretty much count on finding her in the nearest pond, stream, or culvert. So, when Tooey disappeared for the fifth time today, we knew where she was — in the pond next to the path where we were walking.

Suddenly, we heard a low, long growl. Renae looked up and said, “Get her out of there now!”

I called “Here!”, and thankfully, Tooey came — her face decorated with porcupine quills. I held her muzzle, and Russ wrapped his legs around her body and pulled quills out of her nose and lips, and even a couple out of her tongue. She flinched as each one was pulled out, but let us do it. (I was so concentrated on getting those quills out that I didn’t snap a photo.)

And as soon as we let her go, she charged right back into the cattails, determined to GET that porcupine. As they said in the movie, she’s got grit.

I called her out. She didn’t come. I whistled her out, and for a moment, I thought I’d have to go in after her. But out she came, got her chicken jerky reward, and then looked back at the cattails, asking permission to go back in. “No. Leave it. Let’s go,” I said. She came with me, but whenever we came to a new patch of cattails, she turned her head toward them, telling me that that’s where she wanted to head.

And lastly, the beavers.

We saw lots of evidence of beavers. Renae found a beaver skull, and then Russ found the matching mandible close by. That came home with us, to be used in some future art project. We also saw lots of beaver dams. And had the benefit of being able to cross a couple of the ponds by walking on the top of a couple of the dams. They looked sort of iffy, seeing as how they were made out of cattails, but turned out to be amazingly sturdy.

crossing a beaver dam

After several hours, we could see that the sun would be going down soon, so we headed back, sans birds. Toward the very end, Cooper started to limp. He’d gotten sore feet the day before, with the skin between the pads looking a bit inflamed. But we’d put some antibiotic protective cream on them and in the morning they’d looked fine.

We’d put some more cream on his feet in the morning and again before our afternoon at Upper Goose. And all day, he showed no sign of discomfort at all, until that last climb back up the canyon sides to the parking lot. That’s when we saw how red and angry the skin between his feet had become.

He spent the rest of the day resting, and rested again during the whole 6-hour drive home today. This evening, he’s limping a bit like an old man, poor dog. I’ll clean his feet with cool water, put some herbal lotion on them, give him some Rescue Remedy, and keep him quiet. If it doesn’t get better, we’ll be off to the vet. And in any case, I’ll have to see what I can do to prevent this from happening on our next hunting trip.

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3rd autumn pheasant hunt, day 1

Ending score? 14 pheasants flushed, 3 pheasant shot at, 1 pheasant hit, and 3 apples retrieved to hand.

The dogs flushed up 14 pheasants. About half of those were roosters (you can’t shoot hens). The gunners shot at 3, and hit one. That one fell like a lead weight, right into the middle of some very dense, thorny bushes.

All four dogs and all four people searched, but none of us ever found anything resembling a bird. The dogs didn’t find the bird or its scent, and the people didn’t see any feathers or other evidence that a pheasant had ever been shot, much less fallen to earth.

Tooey, Rio, Cooper, and Kasen

But fortunately, the scenery and the weather at Lower Goose Lakes were absolutely beautiful. Mid-40′s, blue skies with wispy white clouds, just a bit of wind, fractured basalt cliffs, glittering blue lakes, the scent of mint and sagebrush. Perfect for hiking.

Rio, Tooey, Kasen, Cooper, Rod, Renae, and Russ

Oh, I guess we're going that way

Rio did get one scent that really excited him. He dived into some heavy cover to grab his favorite — apples. He loves apples. It was sort of funny that Rio retrieved apples on a bird hunting trip. But all of us were happy to take a break to enjoy their juicy sweetness. All you have to do is wipe off the bird doo-doo, get out the pocket knife, and cut slices for everyone. Even Cooper took a slice when he saw all the other dogs enjoying them.

Cooper and Tooey, surveying the terrain

Cooper has not yet had his hunting “lightbulb” moment this year. We really need to get him out somewhere, like a game preserve, where we can arrange for birds to be planted in identified locations. That way, we can direct Cooper to those birds so that when he flushes one, he can associate the excitement of the flush and retrieve with the birds’ scent and typical hiding places. Today, he mostly wanted to stay close to Russ, or to come find me. He’s birdy, though, so I know that with more experience, it’ll come.

I was very pleased with Tooey. We haven’t taken her out hunting before, so she doesn’t have a clue about what she’s supposed to be doing out there. But she clearly enjoyed herself. She checked in with us often, but she was also pretty adventurous, searching the rocks and bushes for whatever was out there.

And the water… Tooey loves to swim — she’ll swim just for the unadulterated joy of it. And the Lower Goose Lakes area is filled with, you guessed it, lakes. Little lakes, strung like beads along desert canyons.

string of lakes

more lakes

Whenever we couldn’t see Tooey, all we had to do was listen for the sound of splashing and paddling. If we heard that, we knew Tooey was swimming again. And loving every minute of it, even in the cold water on a cold November day.

And then, after all the day’s fun, the not-so-fun. The plants in the field provide cover for birds and are wonderful to the nose. But they also festoon the dogs with seeds, twigs, seeds, thorns, and more seeds. And every single bit has to be picked or brushed out. Especially, I’m told, the cheatgrass seeds. For some reason, cheat grass seeds love to hide between dog toes, and in the ears, eyes, and mouth. They can even work their way through the skin into body cavities such as lungs and abdomen and cause serious infections as they move though and get lodged in body tissues. Nasty.

So before dinner, before changing clothes, before even a glass of Scotch, out come the combs and brushes.

Trice brushing out the seeds and debris after a day of hunting

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A little bit of praise

At least in this one regard, Cooper is a lot like me, or I am a lot like him. We both get worried, feel insecure, and need help and reassurance when we don’t understand what we’re supposed to be doing.

Fortunately, Cooper has me. When he is insecure and worried doing his Long Sit and Long Down in the Obedience ring, as he was during both trials this weekend, he can get up and walk over to me. It’s not what I want him to do, but when he does, I will hold his collar and let him stand next to me, where he is safe.

And I have Cooper. While he’s not particularly good at having an intellectual discussion about what he’s worried about, he is a good dog who loves me. He’ll keep going into the Obedience ring because I want him to. So it’s my job and my privilege to help him understand what I want him to do.

But I need help, too. I am a Novice A person with a Novice A dog. This is my first performance dog and my first experience with Obedience training, with only a few months experience. I’m clumsy, I make a lot of mistakes, I don’t know a lot of things that other handlers just seem to get without effort. I’m not naturally talented at dog training. I don’t see where and how I’m going wrong, just that it’s not working.

So, this weekend, after Cooper didn’t qualify at either trial, I knew something had to change. It’s just that I can’t figure out what. Am I doing everything okay, and I just need to be more patient? Am I doing something wrong? Is there something else that I should be doing that would be better?

Or maybe I should just quit.

I thought about that a lot on Sunday after our failure in the Obedience ring. I sort of mechanically put Cooper up in his crate with his toy and a bucket of water, and then walked toward the building where the conformation dog show was being held.

On my way, I ran into Tammy. Seeing her, I started to cry. She’d already heard that Cooper didn’t qualify again, so she didn’t ask me what was wrong. She just put her arms around me and said, “I am so proud of you.”

No advice. No scolding about how I shouldn’t have put Cooper into the ring if he wasn’t ready. No trying to convince me that I shouldn’t feel sad. Just, “I am so proud of you.”

And then she told me some stories about her dogs: the dog that took 20 trials before qualifying the first time, the dog that never could get a CDX title, the various creative ways her dogs have expressed their opinions about competition Obedience.

And she also said that she’s sure that Cooper and I can do it.

So probably, we can.

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Nova is gone, too

Cooper is an orphan now, if dogs can be said to be orphans. Both his parents are gone. Balloo died in 2008, and Nova passed away on August 21st.

Ch Realta’s SuperNova CD, RN, MH, WCX, QAA — 9/29/02-8/21/11

Nova, 2010

You can see from her many titles that Nova was a very accomplished Irish Water Spaniel. But they don’t spell out her accomplishments completely. She was:

• First IWS bitch to achieve Qualified All Age in AKC field trials
• Second generation Master Hunter
• First IWS bitch qualified to attend the Master National
• One of the two first IWS to attend the Master National (along with her half sister, Nike)
• Dam to the 2009 AND 2011 IWSCA National Specialty WB BOW: Maggie and Emmy
• A top producer, being dam to three show champions: Maggie, Mowgli, and Cooper
• Dam to one and almost a second All-Around IWS (Emmy has her CH, JH, and CD; Cooper has to get 2 more legs on his Obedience CD)
• Beloved companion, and dam to many other lovable and beloved companions

Nova has been an inspiration to me personally. The fact of Nova’s accomplishments has kept me going when I was ready to quit, almost convinced that we couldn’t do it, whatever it was — getting Cooper’s show championship, his hunting titles, and now, his tantalizingly close (but not guaranteed) Obedience title.

But I keep going because my working toward Cooper’s training and titles are inspired and supported by my desire to honor Nova and Rosemary. I am so blessed to have both of them in my heart and my life.

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Killer dog show

Dog shows are stressful. You wait your turn to go into the ring, and you try to remember to breathe. You go into the ring, hope your dog will live up to the hours of training you’ve put in, and try to remember to breathe. Sometimes you shake a little with nervousness, and your friends outside the ring make breathing motions at you. You look at them, smile, and breathe. Then the judging is finished, and you leave the ring, either pleased or disappointed with the results, and you try to remember to breathe.

In the past, between breaths, I have joked that someday a dog show would be the death of me. But I never really thought that one day a dog show would actually try to kill me.

All morning before my slot in the Novice Obedience ring at the Eunumclaw dog show, I complained to Rod and Renae that I felt bad. All three of us thought it was nervousness. That makes sense — I’m usually nervous at dog shows. And then I got into the ring, and couldn’t breathe easily. Also usual. And then my hands started to shake. Well, that’s not usual, but, after all, this was my first time in Obedience, so maybe not unexpected.

When we got out of the ring (Cooper didn’t pass — he walked away during the Stand for Exam to go check something out in the next ring.), I gathered up my lightweight crate, Cooper on his leash, and started to walk over to Jayme’s RV, where she was going to do some grooming on Cooper for me (bless her heart). It was hard walking over there. I had to stop every 15 steps or so, put down my stuff, rest, and then pick it up and take 15 more steps. Well, I thought, it’s hot (90 F), I’m still nervous, and I don’t feel good. But I didn’t suspect that I had anything to worry about.

Finally, I got over to Jayme’s RV, and over the next couple of hours, I felt worse and worse. Dizzy, lightheaded, unable to stand up for more than a few seconds. Had to sit down, and then I had to lie down. I sweated profusely and then stopped sweating. Paul came over, looked at me, told me my face was all white, and suggested I drink something with sugar in it. He brought me a Coke. Jayme gave me water. Russell made me a sandwich, but I was too nauseated to eat it. All the while, I felt worse. Finally, I asked Paul, who had been a medic, what the symptoms of a heart attack in a woman are. What he described, after checking with his clinician wife Paula, sounded like what I was going through. Except I never did suffer any chest pain or pressure — but I guess that is not unheard of in women.

Then my Irish Water Spaniel friends saved me. They called the medics. They encouraged me to go in the ambulance to the emergency room. Jayme, Russell, and Paul took care of Cooper and my car and all my stuff. Rod and Renae met me at the hospital. They picked up Cooper and my car, and took it all to their house for the duration. They even missed a wedding the next day to take care of me and my dog.

So here I am, three days later, not dead. After days in the hospital, many tests, blood draws, and checkings of vital signs, they don’t know what went wrong. Several signs and my family history point to a heart problem. Could have been dehydration. Could have been an anxiety attack.

So, I’ll be off to my physician this afternoon to see what my next steps are.

The question is: Do my next steps include my going to the IWSCOPS specialty dog show next weekend? I’ve been looking forward to it for months and months. Everyone thinks I’m nuts, but I still really want to go.

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