Wild times at Ft. Dodge

The plan when I left work at noon last Friday was to zoom home, fill the cooler, load the dogs and head north to Fort Dodge, a 3-hour drive. The van was already packed and ready to go. I wanted to get to the show site in time to get a good camping spot, set up my crate and chair in the building and work Phoenix in the ring-rental match that evening.

Everything went right on schedule until I opened the kitchen cupboards under the sink to grab a garbage bag and found a re-enactment of the floods of 2008 going on. How ironic, since it was the one-year anniversary of the record-setting crest in Cedar Rapids. There was water EVERYWHERE.

The Farmer came in right then. The man’s timing is perfect.

I pointed out the water gushing down the back wall of the cabinet from a madly leaking faucet and said, “You’re gonna want to do something about that. See ya Sunday night. Love ya, bye.” And I bolted.

Was that horrible? Remember, this is the man who A) left me to dump 250 pounds of spoiled meat by myself when the dogs’ freezer went out in August a few years ago and B) left me to clean up the house after the “Disorder of the Phoenix” incident which was HIS fault in the first place. He always had somewhere else he “needed to be.” And Friday, so did I. Turnabout is fair play. (Really, he is a wonderful man even though we drive each other crazy at times.)

It started to rain about an hour out of Ft. Dodge. The closer I got to the show site, the harder it rained. I seemed to be having all sorts of problems with water.

No big deal, I thought, it’ll clear off in a couple of hours. In the meantime, I got set up in the obedience building and logged some training time at the match. By 7 p.m., the rain showed no signs of letting up. If anything, it was coming down harder. I cruised through the show site, the Webster County Fairgrounds, wondering where to tent and how I was going to get it set up without drowning or burying C3 up to her axles in mud.

4-H fairgrounds are wonderful places. They are full of those long, low, open-sided barns where the kids stall their cattle, sheep, hogs, poultry and rabbits during the county fair. I decided one of those barns, with a good solid roof and cement floor was just what I was looking for. I backed C3 into the poultry barn and set up my tent. We slept snug and dry. Except for having to re-inflate my air mattress at 3 a.m., barn-camping was ideal.


Saturday was Phoenix’s first time in Graduate Novice. He won the class by merit of being the last dog standing, so to speak. He was the only qualifier in a class of 6 and I was tremendously proud of his behavior on the long down, his first time doing this with a group of “strange” dogs and me out of sight. Phoenix was the third dog in line. The first dog, a golden, got up and poked the second dog, a standard schnauzer. They exchanged some snappy snarlies and the stewards caught the golden but not the schnauzer. Thank doG the schnauzer had the good sense to leave Phoenix alone, went around him, and poked the fourth dog in line, a miniature poodle. When the poodle ignored him (good little girl), the schnauzer went dancing through the rest of the line-up until the stewards were finally able to corral him and the rest of the time passed in relative peace. I was so proud of Phoenix for minding his own business. Several exhibitors who were watching said he was giving the hairy eyeball to the two errant dogs and I’m also sure he was giving off a pretty strong aura of “Don’t mess with me.”

Phoenix is usually the only mal at area obedience trials and frequently, he is the only mal at all-breed shows with obedience trials as well. So imagine my delight at finding another mal entered this weekend. Not only that, it was Phoenix’s half-brother from one of his mom’s early litters. Polly F., a native Iowan now living in Arizona but traveling back to the state this summer, was there with Apache (Carousel’s Money Talks) from the Talk litter. Apache finished his CD with a nice score and 3rd place in the class. I enjoyed visiting with Polly who is active in Schutzhund with her mal boys. Apache and Phoenix had a very brief introduction but were not inclined to feel much brotherly love.

After another ring-rental match Saturday evening, it was back to the poultry barn. That $#@! air mattress sprung a serious leak and I woke up Sunday morning basically sleeping on the cement barn floor. I am now in the market for a new air mattress. Again. I do not have any luck with those things.

Sunday, Phoenix’s ring work was delightful. I heeled with my left arm at my side (totally forgot on Saturday and up it went, automatically) and I that was the NICEST heeling he’s ever given me in the ring, only .5 point off. He worked his fronts and his finishes were actually BRISK! And STRAIGHT! We have struggled with finishes, what a stupid little thing, so it was rewarding to see him put them together. A good thing, too, since there are 4 fronts/finishes in Grad Nov. However, the silly boy used the first board of the broad jump as a spring board, so we NQ’d. (Jump? What jump? Oh, THAT jump!) Only 3 dogs showed and everyone behaved him/herself on the long down, although Phoenix crawled a bit out of line (never lifted his elbows off the mat, according to Paula) and self-rewarded with a crunchy he found on the mat. Hmm, gotta proof for that!

When I got home, the Farmer/Plumber had installed a shiny new kitchen faucet and all was right with the world.