Agility course

Today was a warm sunny dry day - in January!

So we had to take advantage of it.  After walking the dogs and bringing the bees some honey, walking the dogs again, riding my horse, working the other horse, I set up the Christmas present agility course.
                         
                     Decibel was so excited.
                                                   She LOVES to jump.

 Ring jump or Bar jump, she will show off and get in the way of the other dogs just to jump.  She can even do the weave poles, if there are some goodies to follow:

                           ...But the tunnels?

                                          No way!  


Ralph on the other hand goes through them like he was born to it.  Today was his first time at the closed tunnel:

                                             That's his head^

               Here he is trying to get out, but Skeeter and Decibel are blocking the exit.

                                                 Finally free! Yay Ralphie!

Graduation?

Thursday was our LAST dog class.

EVER!!!!

No, our dogs haven't gotten so good at school that they are looking into a college program, rather our teacher, Amelia, found a job she likes better than us.

Maybe we should have paid her better?

I don't know how we are going to break it to the dogs, but luckily this is one week away, and we'll deal with it then.  We took all 4 dogs for the last few times, because they absolutely love their class, and they KNOW that it is Thursday.
On Thursday, I touch a comb and the dogs don't run away.
On Thursday, grooming means that you are the chosen one, the one going to class.  Even Decibel abides by that unspoken rule, although she is usually chosen, since she still needs the whole socialization and obedience the most.
On Thursday, the dogs wait patiently by the door until it is time to go.

We practiced a new trick for the teacher:  Wave Bye-bye:  

Decibel's turn.  She puts her paw all the way up, too!

Maggie and I heeling a Figure 8 around the Papillon

Decibel's turn for Figure 8

Down in motion, Decibel did good!

                                       

Baklava for teach

Bear

Goose-stepping German Shepherd

Sometimes Decibel gives kisses

Teaching a new move?

Ralphie

Louie, note flip flops in January!

Sit Stay with distraction, he looked but stayed.

All sitting!

on the sidelines

Maggie got to be teacher's pet for the heeling.

Good girl!

Winter Blues

A while ago I marveled at the fact that my blogging frequency seems to increase as the year progresses.  That struck me as odd, since I avoid the cold and stay close to the wood stove all winter long, mostly attached to a computer or with my nose shielded by a book.
So why then would I not be writing or blogging?
It is clearly a case of selective memory, or elective forgetfulness.  I can't stand winter, and that's bad enough, but I especially can't deal with the double whammy of taxes and winter.
It's sort of like DEATH and TAXES are just rubbing it in that they will get you in the end.  So I go through a blue funk and wait for better things in spring.

This winter is one of those up and down ones with sporadic nice days (well, nice for winter, entirely too cool for my ordinary expectation of good weather, but I will make allowances, and accept a sunny fifties as nice, when it is in January), only to drive the breath out of you the next morning with blasted arctic cold in single digits with wind-speeds near highway cruising rates.
Blustery, that's called.
My voluntary brain freeze immobilizes the best of intentions at times like that.

Now then to the warm ray of sunshine that managed a short-lived thaw:
Decibel, who else.
None of the dogs are intimidated by the winter weather, and Decibel, like any good Briard, delights in the routine of doing the chores.  I was setting up the cow barn for the soon to follow milking.  I set out the feed, ready the buckets, and after that I go and feed the horses and donkey, so the Ruby has some time to pee and poop.  Believe me, nothing makes a cold morning more miserable than having to duck and then clean up a cow's morning evacuations.   They save up over night.
Anyhow, the very last thing I do in the barn before braving the trek (it's a quarter mile ONE way) to the horse barn, is to feed the dratted cats.  (After Buckwheat scratched me during a hissy fit when I was trying to administer care and medication for a large gash the cats are on my blacklist).
So I tell Decibel, entirely by the way, "We have to feed the cats, before we go to the horses."
My brilliant girl gives me one of her patented smiles and runs to the feed room (she doesn't go in, she knows better), and stretches from the doorway to poke the lidded bucket that contains the cat food.  How smart it that?
She really knows stuff like that.
I was in a much better mood for the rest of the chores, in spite of the 30 mph winds with 10°F (-12°C) temperatures, or complete lack thereof, really.