Our Competition Future

You may have noticed that there was a distinct lack of performance-related items in my 2012 goals, especially in terms of titles and trials. This was no accident. Despite the fact that Maisy was a total rockstar at her first obedience trial last month, I'm still not sure what her competition future holds. Most notably, I'm not convinced that trialling is in her best interests.

The truth is, Maisy was stressed at the trial last month. She was less stressed than I've seen her in the past, which is great, but she was still stressed. She scratched herself in the ring. She mildly snarked at another dog in the crating area. She could not relax in her car crate, despite the many, many hours of practice we've put in over the past year. Once we got home, she jumped at every little sound, which broke my heart. I haven't seen her like that in a long time.

I love looking at this face in the ring.

Her score and performance were admirable in and of themselves, but once you know the back story? They become amazing! In fact, one of Maisy's greatest skills is her ability to work through stress. She might be freaking out, but she will still do her best for me. Although it would be easy to ignore her distress and put her through her paces, I just don't feel that's fair. I know there are people who disagree with me, or who think I'm worrying needlessly, or accuse me of being overprotective, but I am not willing to put my dog's comfort and happiness on the line simply for the glory of a ribbon or a title.

With all that said, I'm also not willing to give up on a promising performance career just yet. In retrospect, the trial was poorly timed. It came the day after Christmas, a holiday which is tense and stressful around my house, and Maisy is exquisitely sensitive to the moods of her people. Since my husband and I had a hard time keeping our own stress from boiling over, I am quite sure that at least some of her behavior at the trial was a result of what had happened in the days leading up to it.

More than that, even though she was stressed, she truly seemed to enjoy some aspects of the trial. The video is proof that she was pretty happy to be playing the obedience game, and she liked visiting with all the people that were there. Most importantly, we were together. Maisy is my dog, through and through, and she wants to be where I am.

So we will try again. We will enter another trial, and I will keep a close eye on her stress levels, both during and after the trial. We will do one day only, and only one run. If she's feeling okay, we'll do another trial, and another. But if she's not? Well, I will have to think long and hard about whether or not we should keep competing.

Because here's the thing: I believe that Maisy can work through her stress because of the relationship we have. Maybe it's purely reinforcement history, or maybe it's because she trusts me. I don't know. Whatever the reason, it's clear that Maisy is willing to face her fears and keep working simply because I ask her to.

And if she's willing to do that- if she's willing to look a panic attack in the face and say, “Excuse me, but my mom wants me to heel right now,”- well, I had better live up to my end of the bargain. Hopefully I can find a way to do that while still competing with her. But if I can't? I'll give it all up in a heartbeat, because I want to be someone worthy of her trust.

Just Because You Can, Does That Mean You Should? The Ethics of Trialing a Reactive Dog

Although she was entered for both days of the APDT trial last weekend, I chose to scratch Maisy’s entries on Sunday. The reasons are complicated, and quite honestly, I’m not entirely sure I understand them myself. I just knew somewhere deep inside that it was the right thing to do.

Part of the reason I scratched was due to my disappointment in how Saturday turned out, although I’m aware that that probably sounds pretty silly. After all, she had decent scores, completed a title with honors, and even placed in both trials she was entered in. I know that part of my disappointment lies in my desire for perfection. I want first place and high (if not perfect) scores. But it was more than that: there was a real lack of connection between Maisy and I on Saturday.

The reason I do dog sports is because I love that element of teamwork necessary to do well. It’s wonderful to watch and it’s amazing to experience. When I think about our best runs, I remember not scores and placements, but the sheer beauty of two different species coming together to move as one. The focus and attention we both have for one another is absolutely thrilling, and it was that element lacking that really disappointed me.

I have struggled to figure out why that sense of teamwork was missing, and as best I can figure, it was due to two reasons: stress and poor training. The latter is easy to address: we need to practice more in the face of distractions. Training at home is one thing, but what we really need to do is take our work on the road. We can do that, and we will. No, the hard part is dealing with the stress.

Now, Maisy has made a lot of progress. She’s calm and relaxed around our house, and isn’t anywhere near as edgy as she used to be while on walks. She’s an absolute joy to live and play with. What’s left to work on is helping her learn to manage her fear and stress in the face of the busy, chaotic environment often present at trials.

But is that possible? And if it is, is that fair? Can I call myself a positive trainer and then ask my dog to do something stressful?

I’ve spent most of the week freaking out about this. And, okay, “freaking out” is probably an understatement. I had pretty much decided that we would quit trialing entirely, giving up on my dreams and her potential. Still, this didn’t feel right. In fact, it felt like a cop-out because we didn’t achieve perfection.

So I began talking about this with my trainers. One commented in an email that this is what she goes through with her dog, “wanting to ‘fix’ him, knowing that he’d rather stay home and watch TV.” But… that’s not Maisy, I said. Maisy loves to go places. She is so full of joy when I tell her we’re going somewhere. She rushes to the car, jumps in gleefully, and just about pulls me off my feet when we arrive, whether that’s the training center, the pet store, or even the second day of a trial.

In fact, the only time that she has clearly told me she does not want to do something has been when I’ve tried to crate her at trials. She will slink along, or even plant her feet and refuse to go. It’s as if she’s saying, I’ll be here with you, I’ll do this for you, but you must be with me, too.

I spoke with my other trainer on the phone today. She said that, yes, Maisy looked stressed at the trial on Saturday, but that she’s seen her worse. She also said that she doesn’t think that Maisy will ever be completely comfortable at a trial. Of course, I asked her if she thought it was fair that I ask her to do it anyway, and she responded with a story:

A few weeks ago in class, we had a wobble board out. Maisy was very concerned while another dog was using it, so when he was done, I took Maisy over to see what it was. I just wanted her to smell it, but because we’ve been working on pivot boards so much, she put a paw on it and immediately freaked herself out, running away, tail tucked, to the end of her leash. (She hates when things move underneath her.)

I asked her to come back to the wobble board, with the intention of giving her treats while she was near it. Almost immediately, she put her paw on it again, and again, she was scared. I called her over again, but this time, a bit wiser, though perhaps a bit slow, I put my foot on the board to hold it steady. Again, she almost immediately put not one, but both front feet on the wobble board. I jackpotted her, and then we walked away from the dog-eating wobble board.

“Crystal,” she told me, “you can’t avoid stress. That wobble board was stressful for Maisy, but she did it because you asked, and because she trusts you.”

“But should I have asked?”

“You exposed her to stress, yes, but life is stressful sometimes. The more important part is that you knew when to stop. Let Maisy guide you. If she is willing to try, go ahead and ask.”

“So what you’re saying is I should quit thinking and listen to my heart?”

“I doubt you’ll quit thinking; you live in your head. But you have good instincts when it comes to your dog, so listen to those and you’ll be fine.”

Instinctually, I know that Maisy can do this. After all, I know that Maisy loves to train, and that she loves to go places with me. Just about the worst thing in her world is when I do something or go somewhere without her. I really think that Maisy would rather be with me in a stressful environment than at home, safe, but alone.

And it’s true, you can’t avoid stress, but you can learn to balance it. Trials may be stressful for her, but Maisy is still willing to play the game. In fact, she seems to like the game. As my trainer pointed out, once we got in the ring, Maisy’s stress level went way down. She likes to know what her job is, and she likes to do it.

So, we’ll keep training, and we’ll keep trialing… for now, anyway.

2010 Goals

In the Star Trek universe, all of the main character’s actions are guided by the Prime Directive, which is their highest law. Basically, the Prime Directive states that, "allowing cultures to develop on their own is an important right and therefore [the characters] must make any sacrifice to protect cultures from contamination."

What does that have to do with dog training? Well, it’s that time of year: time to make resolutions and set goals and dream about the future. As I’ve contemplated my goals for the coming year, I realized that almost every one had a qualifier: if Maisy is comfortable. As a result, I’ve come up with my own dog training Prime Directive: I recognize that Maisy has the right to grow at her own pace, and that I will not interfere in that by pushing her beyond what she can handle.

Or, perhaps a bit less geeky: I will work with the dog I have. I will honor who she is. I will never force her to be someone she is not.

One of the things I adore about Maisy is that she has a heart of gold. She will work her little heart out. She will try her best. She will do everything I ask of her… even if she’s stressed beyond belief. I have been at trials with her where she was clearly stressed out, and she still placed in the ribbons.

In fact, I have only one regret from 2009: there was a trial where I should have excused ourselves, and I didn’t. Ironically, that run was the one that earned us our RL1X, the single-level championship in APDT rally. It was a very hollow victory, and on that day, I learned that high scores, fancy ribbons, and new titles are all well and good, but the victories I really savored were the ones where we were really working together as a team, as friends. For me, dog training and trialing is all about one thing: relationship.

This year, and for the rest of her life, I will do my level best to honor who Maisy is. If I need to excuse ourselves from the ring, I will. If I need to take an NQ in order to make the experience better for her, I will. If she needs a break from training for a day or a month or even a year, I’ll give it to her.

With that in mind, I present my list of goals for 2010. I’ve tried to make these as objective as possible, with specific criteria for what needs to happen in order to consider the goal met. Some goals are more measurable than others, but overall, I’m excited about what I’ve come up with.

1. Complete Dr. Karen Overall’s Relaxation Protocol. More importantly, work on it consistently, at least once or twice a week.

2. Increase Maisy’s physical exercise, specifically by taking her on more walks, and by doing so more consistently. This is a hard goal to start in January since the temp with windchill is below zero right now...

3. Improve her stays. By the end of the year, I would like for Maisy to have a novice-level sit and down stay. This means that she should be able to do sit and down stays with distractions, and while I am 20-30 feet away, for 1 minute and 3 minutes respectively.

4. Improve her heeling. Specifically, I’d like for her to maintain heel position through pace and direction changes without verbal cues. In other words: I’d like her to be able to do a novice-level, off-leash heeling pattern.

5. Improve her fronts. I would like for Maisy to be able to go from heel position to the front position on the first try. Right now she can get there, but she does need to shift around a bit to do so. And, perhaps more importantly, I’d like her to get front and then hold that position until I ask for something else.

6. Improve her jumping ability. I’d like for her to be able to a recall over a (high or bar) jump, and for her to go out to a specified jump, without hesitation or "popping" over the jump. I’d love if she got to her full jump height, but I’ll settle for 2 inches on this one.

7. I will work on reducing my ring nerves and performance anxiety. I will consider this successfully met if I can perform in a trial without dependence on stomach medication!

8. I’m really, really hoping to obtain Maisy’s ARCH this year. It is completely doable, but also completely at the whim of the Prime Directive.

9. I’d also really like to get at least one leg towards a CD of some sort (either the U-CD or the CD-H). Again, completely at the whim of the Prime Directive.

So, there it is- all the things I want to work on this year. I can’t wait to report back on our progress next January. I really, really hope that, regardless of how many of my goals we do or do not reach, I can tell you I honored that Prime Directive. In the process, I’m sure Maisy and I will boldly go places I had never dreamed. But, even if we end the year in exactly the same place, at least I will know that I honored who Maisy is.