Emma is not the best student. She is not even a good student. If she was a human child, she would be on Adderall. There is no DSM for dogs, but I’m sure she meets criteria for ADHD: attention deficit hyperactive dog. In our class, some dogs have handler focus. They are so busy watching their humans they miss the entrance to the tunnel. Other dogs have obstacle focus. They are so intent on nailing the jump that they lose track of their human. Emma has everything else focus. Me: “Emma! Wrap, over, over, tunnel!” Emma: “Got it. Wrap, over.….ooo, someone dropped a cheese cube in the grass. Don’t mind if I do. Is that a squirrel? Does anyone else see that squirrel? Look, the teacher is standing by the fence! I love the teacher. I’ll just run over and say hi.” Me: “I just can’t.” But sometimes she pulls it together and I pull it together and we function as a team.
Today was not one of those days. Our class was trying a “speed run” course, the longest one we had ever attempted. I was feeling good. Emma was locked in and I had on my fast leg. Jennie and her mini Aussie Rusty were up first. It was going great, Rusty nailing every jump, when we suddenly realized that Jennie had forgotten to zip up her treat pouch. As she sprinted around the field with Rusty, her open pouch sprayed dehydrated hot dog pieces everywhere. Eeeeeeverywhere. There were hot dogs at obstacles 1 and 2 and 3. Fewer at 4 and lots more at 5, 6 and 7.
Emma and I were next. I released her and she took off like a shot, nose down, on the best scavenger hunt of her life. “You’ve lost her. Show her your cookies!” the teacher hollered. “Emma! Look what I have! Cheese!” I waved a bag of aged cheddar over my head, dancing around like a maniac. “Emma, touch! Here! Sit!” The teacher took pity on us. “Ok, leash her up and take her out.” I slunk off the field, Emma pulling with all her might to get back hotdog hunting. After 23 weeks of class and two years of training, I’ve learned that hot dogs are Emma’s undoing. I make a mental note to add it to the training plan. No one likes a quitter and it’s going to take more than some dried wienies to break me.