The Adventures Of Samantha Riesco And Her Not So Mellow Mutt
"Who would have guessed that you would become such an awesome 'agility dog'?"
Andrea is grinning down at Kita who has just finished, as Lynn would say a 'stellar' run.
Mom, after all my hard work, gets the privilege of running the well behaved, and more experienced dog while I begin all over again.
Twinkie is only four years old and the newest addition to the Riesco family. He is also the goofiest, most frustrating dog on the surface of this earth. Today, he has decided that chasing invisible bugs is much more fun than doing agility. Time out! Bye bye! Kita becomes the center of attention and Twink immediately regrets his decision.
I'm seventeen and currently studying for my Certified Pet Dog Trainer Certificate. My dog Kita is now eleven years old, very mellow and well behaved -but she didn't used to be.
The fence was complete. Six feet tall and made of chicken wire and tough cedar posts, it ran all along the back of our property and half the front. We had all helped build it, twenty some holes two feet wide and three feet deep. At the time, the youngest, Ruby, could stand to her full height in one of these holes and be completely hidden from view. Forrest, the only boy, had just turned five and I was eight. After months of hard work and discussion the Riesco's were finally going to get a dog.
We made many trips to the new Sunshine Coast S.P.C.A Shelter on Field Road. Jasper, the Rough Collie, only two years old, was our favorite but when we returned a week later he was gone. In his place lay an emaciated black and tan bitch with dark brown eyes, a skinny rat tail, a dark blaze down the muzzle and a bald spot on her elbow. She looked exhausted. She was the mother of eight eight week old pups, four boys and four girls. Adorable, chubby little balls of fluff, they were engaged in a half hearted wrestling match and when we approached waddled over to see us.
"May we see the puppies?" Mom asked.
"Of course," said Elizabeth. We entered.
The dog hauled herself up, went straight to my Mom and sat on her foot, tail wagging feebly. She had made her choice. My Mom couldn't say no, how could anyone refuse?
We came back the next day and took her for a walk. As she had had no name previously, shelter staff had named her Chiara. Nothing much was known of her history. She had been found roaming the Bonnie Brook area and when S.P.C.A officials tried to take her into custody the owner refused. A few months later the dog became pregnant and he was forced to surrender her. She was approximately two years old. Breed and temperament unknown.
She wouldn't get in the car. Elizabeth and Dad each grabbed an end and she was in! That night, we left her tied to the kitchen table. The radio was on and she had a cozy blanket on which to sleep, but the lodgings were not, apparently up to standard. We found her curled up into a tiny ball, asleep on the living room couch.
We soon realized that this young dog had a lot of baggage from her previous life that was not at first visible to first time pet owners like ourselves. The first walk ended in tragedy. Allowed some off leash freedom, she ran away. Dad returned home with three distraught children and no dog. We were all very much relieved when, contrary to our beliefs she returned -just in time for dinner.
This was only the beginning. Besides disappearing for hours at a time, she was an avid cat chaser and frequently escaped to eat all the neighbors' cat food, growling whenever anyone got near enough to try and take it away. She was highly reactive to other dogs and was the instigator of many squabbles that took place, though she would cower low to the ground if any of us approached her directly. The only one who could control her reasonably well was Dad, the rest of us were scared of her. We kept our distance while she ate and if on walks another dog was spotted, our reaction was to choke up on the collar. These solutions didn't make things any better, if anything they made them worse.
I had seen the sign on the highway advertising dog agility lessons at The K9 Club and been to a few of their demos; it looked like fun and the desire to become a member of the club and be able to communicate with my dog the way they did grew. I longed to be able to walk my dog down the street without fear of having a dog fight on my hands. For my eleventh birthday, I received a gift certificate to The K9 Club.
Filled with excitement I arrived for my first class. It was a nightmare, meeting ten dogs all at once put Kita over the edge. She dragged me over the scorched grass towards the dogs, the leash left my hands. I had no control, not that I had had much to begin with. Though I had spent the months before practicing in the backyard, heeling, sitting, that was no help to me now. She charged at two Jack Russell Terriers. Taylor and Tinker belonged to Lynn Nestman, owner of The K9 Club and head trainer.
"HEY!!! LEAVE IT!!!" screamed Lynn in a very loud, threatening and scary voice.
This same scenario played over and over gain during the following year. Kita would pull me off balance and then continue to drag me about the field, prepared to fight any dog within reach. She was nasty around other canines, but would always try mooching treats from any of the humans. I should mention that Kita was, at the time, the only mutt enrolled in the class, and I was the only handler under the age of thirty. Having Cerebral Palsy added another challenge to the list.
Man, those people really made me mad- the other handlers I mean. I was determined to see the good side of my dog's temperament and did not blame her, but the previous owner for our difficulties. And the other members seemed just as determined to see only the bad side. I was a disturbance and a hindrance, and my dog was out of control and a threat. They wanted me out of the class.
"They treat us like garbage!!" I yelled as tears coursed down my face.
"Mutts have just as much right to be on the field as all those stupid Border Collies and Pom poms! They treat us like GARBAGE!!"
"ENOUGH!!" yelled Andrea. Lynn's business partner, she had two mutts of her own, both with a history of abuse.
Slowly, the other members started to see that I was not going to give up that easily and began to help me. Bob, who had used clicker training to help his Border Collies learn agility, showed me how to teach Kita new behaviors using this extraordinary tool. Judy and Dree began commenting on our progress, and when it seemed that progress had stopped all together encouraged me to stick with it.
Lynn suggested that we enroll Kita in a beginner obedience class with Joyce Tattersal; dog trainer and animal behaviorist, she might be able to help us gain a better understanding of how to deal with our little miss canine catastrophe. We took the advice, completed the class and learned a lot. Things were by no stretch of the imagination going to be easy, but armed with new knowledge, my future as the owner of a well behaved dog and agility star did not seem quite so bleak.
Over the next two years things gradually began to come together. Granted, the squabbles and blow offs still happened and I cried more often than I care to admit, but we had come a long way. I took a chance and signed up for The K9 Club Dog Olympics.
Agility is the fastest growing dog sport on the planet. It is a race against the clock and the fastest time with the least amount of faults is the winner. Obstacles which the dog must complete (directed by the owner) include: weaving through twelve upright poles, jumping over jumps of various heights, widths and shapes, racing over bridges and 'frames' at a height of five feet and surfing tippy teeter totters. We had practiced all this in class but with only two, three, four pieces at a time. We would have to find our way through this monstrous course which totaled fourteen pieces in just under one minute.
We tried. Kita it turned out, did not enjoy being in the lime light, she was a bundle of nerves and when we entered the ring, promptly went into the corner and took a dump. Disqualified, no pooping in the ring! I cried in frustration, we had come SO far, and now we blew it!
Next year we had more success. Kita had finally figured out that agility was not about picking fights but about working. In class, she was awesome. Well in tune to each others body language, we flew around the course, executing pinwheels, serpentines and blind crosses like pros. I couldn't run fast enough to keep up with her, so I had to come up with my own way of running (the courses).
We became really good at twenty-five and thirty foot sends, as the distance allowed me to move around the course more swiftly. Many times, she would know better than I where we were going. All our hard work was finally paying off.
"OK Sam, let Twink have a turn," said Lynn. "But don't let him beat you up. Give 'im heck if he blows you off!"
"You're such a goof Twink! Let's go to work!"
This time his run is flawless and as a reward "Starvin' Marvin" as he is affectionately called, gets a big chunk of boiled chicken from Lynn.
"Good dogs!" I say praising them both for jobs well done. "Gimme a high-five girl!" And Kita lifts her paw to touch my palm.
It is three o'clock and all the classes of the day are over. Mom helps us pack in the equipment and we head for the car.
"See you tomorrow! I'll need help with the Beginner Class signup!" Lynn calls.
"Yep, see you tomorrow."
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