BarkingProse

It was the summer of my second year when I finally quit going to classes. I did still go to the play groups once a week but that was more for Mom than me. She really liked the other moms and they had fun hanging out while we dogs played.

I met my first boyfriend in play group. His name is Percy and he is a beautiful black and white border collie. He noticed me immediately and started chatting me up. Pretty soon it was just me and him hanging out together.

Percy has a little bit of the devil in him and we were always getting in trouble. Yes, I was right there with him. We both got time in the penalty box when we misbehaved. It was all good fun. Percy doesn’t have a mean bone in him. He just happens to have a mind of his own and doesn’t always take direction well.

Mom kept hearing about this sport called nose work or more precisely Canine Scent Work. https://nacsw.net  It seemed almost too good to be true. Dogs get rewarded for finding hidden scent. There are classes and trials and people travel all around the country with their dogs to enter competitions.

Me and Percy started nose work class about the same time. He was better than me at the beginning but I soon caught up with him. We began in this big training classroom. Only one dog at a time could be in the room. Each dog did a search independently while on an extra long leash. The other dogs had to wait outside so they couldn’t see anything. The instructor hid little treats in weird places all over the room. All we dogs had to do was find the treat and EAT it! It was so much fun. I could hardly believe my good luck.

After a couple months the instructor started pairing the treat with a little odor box. That was to teach us to search for odor, not just food. We would find the treat in the same place as the odor box, eat the treat and go on to the next hide. Eventually the treats next to the hide went away and we searched only for odor. BUT – the minute we found the odor we were fed a treat from our handlers.

Percy eventually dropped out of nose work. His mom wanted him to learn to herd sheep or something more athletic. I’ve continued with nose work since I started nearly nine years ago. I passed the three odor recognition tests that allow you to enter trials, but we decided not to compete. Maybe I could have been a star, I don’t know. I do know there was a lot going on at Asherpark and we needed to stay home more. That was fine with me. Never a dull moment at Asherpark and plenty of quality time with Uncle Ash. Life was good then and still is, despite the sad things that have happened over the years.

 

The next time there was an opening in the therapy dog training class Mom signed me up. She didn’t ask me if I wanted to go, she just told me we were going to do it. I knew it was a waste of time. My heart wasn’t in it and I wasn’t suited for it.

We dutifully went to class two nights a week for what seemed like forever. Following in my own footsteps as in the first class, I passed all the obedience requirements and did manage to stand still long enough for a couple kids to pet me, but I failed the other challenges.

I was supposed to lie on the floor for five minutes while people and other dogs paraded around me and pretend nothing was happening. I had to let two woman pretend to groom me, examine my toes and look into my mouth. It was dreadful.

I didn’t do anything bad, I merely refused to cooperate. I don’t like grooming, my feet are ticklish, my mouth is my own business – thank you very much.

When we arrived at the last class and the final exam, Mom was fretting. I was bored. Then Dave the trainer appeared. I hadn’t seen him for a few months. Needless to say he recognized me and wandered over to ask Mom how I was doing.

In retrospect I wonder if he came on purpose to help Mom with her thinking. He never said I wasn’t suited to be a therapy dog. Instead he started talking about when he was young and his mother wanted him to play the piano. He hated the piano and wanted to play football. He never learned the piano but he was good at football. Then he said something so simple that even I understood. We have to do what is in our nature to be happy. That was it.

I sensed a change in Mom. When it was our turn to be tested she told me, “Do the best you can, Journey. It doesn’t matter if you pass the test.”

Wow, that was a shock. It changed my whole attitude. Suddenly I wanted to do well so I didn’t embarrass Mom or myself. I passed all the tests except for opening my mouth. That was good enough to get me invited back for the level two class. Once again I was voted most improved student. Mom was happy, I was happy.

On the way to the car Mom told me that was my last therapy dog class. I was stunned.

“But I passed the class,” I stammered.

“Yes you did, Journey, and I’m very proud of you,” she said.

“But your heart isn’t in therapy work. You live through your nose. You love to hunt and catch varmints. Your spirit is wild and free and that’s how I want you to live your life.”

I was still trying to take this all in when Mom reminded me of why my name is Journey.

“You have a right to follow your dreams, Journey. And I’ll be right there with you cheering you on.”

The next day Mom signed me up for Nose Work training and I’ve been hunting ever since.