Duck! Incoming dumbbell!

If you’ve known me for longer than 5 minutes, you know precision dumbbell throwing is not one of my finer skills. I’m happy if it stays in the ring and doesn’t concuss the judge. It doesn't help that I have BIG dogs with BIG dumbbells. If I showed a pomeranian, I might be less of a hazard.

Over the years, I’ve been beseiged with advice on how to throw a dumbbell by well-meaning people who feel I am impaired and could benefit from their knowledge. Bless their little hearts. I tried all their advice. It didn’t help much. Then I started watching them in the ring and realized in spite of all their expertise, their throws weren’t a darn bit better than mine. Their dumbbells bounced and rolled and went every which way. Some days, those things are possessed and there’s nothing anyone can do about it.

I decided until judges start scoring the handler’s throw as part of the exercise, I would stick with the method that works best for me. I just hold the dumbbell by one end, focus on an imaginary target and give it an underhand toss. For the most part, it goes pretty much where I intend. Pretty much.

There is a margin of error, however. Be warned. If you ever train with me me, do not, I repeat NOT, stand directly in front of me when I am working the retrieve exercises. I don’t want to have to explain to the paramedics why there is the imprint of an Invince-A-Bell on your forehead. Hey, stuff happens.

I’ve had my share of perfect throws. Even a blind pig finds an acorn sometimes. But I’ll admit, I’ve had plenty of dumbbells that fell short of the mark, skittered sideways, got hung up in the ring gates, bounced into an adjoining ring and - worst of all - smashed broadside into the high jump with such a reverberating crash it brought the entire trial to a standstill. Jamie sat there and gave me the hairy eyeball. It’s bad when your dog looks at you like you are an idiot.

At least I haven’t shattered a light fixture or thrown it into the spinning blades of a ceiling fan. Seen both of those done. Yikes. Or, and this may be the best one yet, had it land perfectly balanced atop an exposed ceiling beam about 18 feet off the floor. I think they finally had to get a ladder to get that one down.

When I was showing Connor, I got really good at landing his dumbbell almost exactly on the minimum distance line past the high jump. Connor was not a strong jumper and did much better if his dumbbell didn’t land too far from the jump. With him, I did practice throwing until my throws were reliable. Jamie pretty much ruined any dumbbell throwing skills I might have had because he was simply so good at bringing it back no matter where I threw it, that I gave up worrying about being a perfect thrower. Phoenix looks to continue this trend. I think he expects his dumbbell to go flying at bizarre angles and landing who-knows-where. It’s part of the game.

Here’s the bottom line: my dogs are trained to retrieve dumbbells no matter where they land because unless it goes clear out of the ring, the judge is not obligated to allow a re-throw (although most of them are terribly nice people and will). He may say “Send your dog” and then what happens?

My dog’s job is to bring it back. Period. I’m willing to meet my dog half-way on a lot of things and even more than half-way on some things, but retrieves aren’t one of them. He has four legs, a lower center of gravity, incredible physical flexibility, a keen nose, loves to chase things and uses his mouth like we use our fingers and hands. So I’m not going to obsess about throwing the dumbbell perfectly for him each time. Which is a darn good thing. Because I’m not done obsessing about what to do with my left arm on heeling yet.