Went to the trial today. A cold day, but not nearly as cold and miserable as predicted with some "storm" coming in. Yeah, the wind kicked up a bit, and yeah, it was cold ... but we managed.
Ok so ... open ran, then pro-novice. I helped in the pens and bit, observed for the most part, and took a few photos. Nothing exciting. I'll post those tomorrow or something.
Then nursery came up. I was instantly sick to my stomach. Here I am with my 18 month old dog, "competing" against the likes of Patrick Shannahan, Dianne Deal, Don Helsley, Lavon Calzacorta (I'm sure I butchered your name, sorry Lavon), etc. I walk up to Don and asked him, "Does it matter which side of the handler's post I puke on?" He assure me that no, the judge wouldn't take points off either way.
So here I am ... standing there. Got my dog behind me (yes, I'm slingshotting her). I go to open my mouth to send her, and I'm frozen. Something is wrong. Oh! That's right! In order for my lungs to work and my blood to get oxygen, I need to breathe! So I step back a bit and take a breath. I'm dizzy. My knees are going to buckle. The sheep are set. My heart is pounding. I can't see a thing. I meekly say, "Come bye," and off she goes. I am swaying back and forth, praying she will bring me those sheep. I was SO worried about the fetch panels. She has a lovely looking outrun to begin with. Then, as usual, on that come bye side, she comes up short, but this time, for good reason. There is a strong draw that way. She freezes. I'm frozen. She's not moving. I can't speak. I finally re-flank her to get her to give up the pressure. She pushes harder, a sheep tries to make a break for it, and her tail comes up and she starts to squirrel back and forth in front of the flock, and it broke my trance, I left the post, helped her get around them, walked past the fetch panels I was so worried about, thanked the judge and kissed my dog.
It's over! GIVE ME A BEER!
So there. Progess since the fair ... higher class, much longer distance, nice outrun (until the top part), and we didn't chase a sheep to holy heaven. The biggest thing is, I will NEVER feel that way at the post again. Woo hoo! My first run against the big guns is over! Now I can stop worrying about it. Tomorrow it will be old news and Echo and I will go out and kick their collective asses!
So there! Take THAT, Patrick! Don ... did you hear me!?!?! You guys are done for! And Dianne, you might as well just stay home! Lavon, tomorrow might be a good day to take that etiquette class you've been dying to take to master those begging skills. The trial field will just be too painful for ya, ok? Got it?
Happy pills,
JD
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