A couple reasons:
1. So much pressure. I'd done the trialing, entered the one trial I really shouldn't have, and spent a lot of time training for the trial instead of training my dogs. I started questioning why I was doing this, whether my dogs were any good, etc, etc.
2. This translated to me being mean to my dogs. Fury can handle it, we'll get into that later, but Rippa shuts down when I shut her down. It's not fair and I knew it.
3. I was having really rough first trimester and it made me not want to do anything - my timing was off, I felt sick, and just . . .ehh. (Yes, I was pregnant - I say was because I lost it in the second trimester. That's kind of a bummer, but I am happy it happened to be honest - I was not ready emotionally or physically the way I wanted to be so this gives me a chance to get there.)
4. I was in a major work crunch - literally could not imagine taking the hour commute to cattle (two hour to ducks/sheep) and the hour of working while there.
5. I actually went on vacation for 2 weeks, so there's that, too.
The time off allowed me to chill. I'll talk about that later. I worked on my relationship with Rippa - from being more patient and kind to her, rewarding her for being nice and noticing it, to working on my expectations of her obedience. The results speak for themselves. Both dogs are way less cranky to each other than they can be, Rippa has been perky and happier than I've seen in a long while, and some long time behavior stuff (especially her dislike for dogs in her face) is going away. She's more confident. My job was to build her up and it helped.
Steph's neighbors got goats - friendly goats. There's nothing The Fury likes more than giving goats a good time . . . but she didn't because I asked her not to.
I always start with Rippa at Stephanie's because we have to get sheep out of their pen that has a shed around it and we've worked long enough that it's old hat for her to do it. She pushes them out of the pen, at which point they shoot across the field and she has to gather them back while I sort the ones I don't want back in. I used to try to sort out of the pen, but I think Stephanie sorts differently than I learned at Kathy's and the leader sheep tend to hang back and I end up with the light and spazzy sheep out in the arena, so I go reverse and put them back in. I end sessions with chores, dumping the whethers. Then Fury gets to come out for more elementary training (a long time off, different issues, and etc makes us step back a bit in expectation) and then I have Fury put them in a holding pen for a final session with Rippa. Sometimes Fury gets another work, but both of them are fat and lazy from staying with my parents and I don't want her to tear her other knee from over use and lack of fitness.
Stephanie had some new lambs mixed in and two new, and large, whethers, who had obviously not been with the flock for long as they kind of worked on their own instead of staying with everyone. I wanted a bigger flock to start Rippa because she'd have more work and slow down a bit while we warmed up, and I wanted to leave these guys and the lambs alone, but had a hard time putting these guys in the pen. They were a touch lighter to me than to the dog, but since they didn't want to flock, they'd get too much pressure from me and Rippa and end up away from everyone else. I figured that would make Rippa have to watch them more and they were bigger so if we made mistakes, I'd handle it and so would they, so I gave up and kept them in my initial flock.
I've been gathering a lot of tools from new thoughts lately, but one thing I'm definitely going back to is the big stick. I got myself a new bean pole and had a much easier time getting Rippa to respect distance and my commands with a few reinforcements. I think the key is to read the situation and what you're trying to do when picking your tool. Right now I wanted to see so having the long stick there to reinforce me was good.
What I got out of the session:
What Rippa knows:
1. How to pick up sheep in either direction
2. How to balance herself, particularly if I am turned around and taking pressure off or clearly stopping
3. How to stay quiet in tight spaces
4. Her flank commands (go by and way to)
5. "Out" if I'm there to reinforce it
6. How to get runaway sheep by moving out more to go to head (yay! That's good stock sense!)
7. How to do long outruns to fetch sheep
8. To not bite (or to grip strategically on the heel) when in control
9. To take small steps and hold them in the face of stock challenging her
I'm really proud of this. All the years I worked the Fury, I couldn't get this. In fact, this calmness in tight spots is what I loved about how Rippa's dad worked. I definitely got what I wanted out of this litter. If only I could reinforce that "down" faster. I mean, I could, but . . . pick your battles.
What Rippa doesn't know:
1. To down on first command
2. To take flanks when I am not there to reinforce it
3. Zero idea what "there" means
4. Her rating commands (aka "easy" to slow down) - she'll slow down if I tell her "no" but not on command
5. "Out" unless I'm there to reinforce it when she feels out of control
6. How to handle sheep passing through fences (aka, they run, she panics)
7. How to do wide outruns (she comes in closer, but it works for her)
8. Not to bite and chase when she feels out of control
And whose fault is it that she doesn't know that stuff? MINE. And why did she quit me on cattle? Because all I did was force almost every one of these issues every time we trained. Goals for the future? Do a lot more of what she knows and work non what she doesn't know in baby steps. I don't think it will take a long time to fix these things (she had a "there", for example, and I don't really mind if she's tight on her outruns if it's effective and calm), so long as I do my part.
I then figured this out about the Fury:
What the Fury knows:
1. How to do long outruns to fetch sheep
2. How to do wide outruns (I think this is pretty natural to her)
3. Her way-to command
4. How to balance herself as long as she is pretty far off contact with the sheep
5. Her flank commands
6. "Walk-up" and "There" (but she doesn't know how to control the sheep on a drive)
7. Her rating commands
8. How to handle sheep passing through fences (we did a lot of work with this back in the day at Doug's when I got paid to work his dog)
(She totally blows off my flank command and takes a bit to "down" but she's being nice to the sheep and that's a good solid outrun. Pick your battles.)
What the Fury doesn't know:
1. How to down on first command (she did, but I think her psych gets the best of her)
2. That I can control my side of the sheep
3. Her flank commands if I am not there to reinforce it
4. Her go by command if I am between the sheep and the dog (she buzzes right by unless my timing is perfect, ignoring stick or anything - full panic)
5. Out
6. Not to body slam and chase when she's out of control (interestingly, she used to bite, but in her old age, she generally tries to use her body instead, which is calming for me)
7. How to stay quiet in tight places
Whose fault again? MINE. Some of this is from years of bad handling. Her go-by side is really bad and I know why.
The key now is to fix these things and learn from them. I have two very different dogs and it's a blessing to have to work it out with them. I definitely think the next pup will be a different story.
Talking about different dogs, I tried some Ben Means stuff on The Fury today. I put the sheep in the big chute at the end and had her go around them in the corners. If she got too edgy, I'd yank her on a leash and try again. It seems to work pretty well. She stayed latched onto the stock instead of me, and started to mind better. I don't want to over do it, but I kind of think she's exactly the kind of dog that needs this. For fun, I tried it with Rippa but she didn't need it and stayed calm in the corners. The attachment to the line also got her too interested in me. The Fury works less for me than Rippa does, and you wouldn't think that because Rippa's not crisp and responsive, but what I think matters a whole lot more to her than it does to her mother.
Rippa DOES need it on cattle, though. She gets so worked if she gets too tight and that's when it goes badly.
So that's where we're at today. I think my goal of getting the WTCh by the Fall might be a bit much now with the break, but Winter? Sure. I just have to make sure I get as many days in as I can and with as much positive and constructive work. I just read and article on WorkingAussieSource, "If you get 1% improvement every time you go out, you'll be 100% in 100 days." Let's do it. I feel confident I know what to do if I keep looking at what I have and what I'm doing wrong. I made a lot of mistakes early on in handling that led to bad habits (like chasing and biting out of control) and I STILL make mistakes (there's a reason Rippa doesn't do gate passages well . .. I don't prepare her or myself for what the sheep will do). But conscious attention to this will matter.
. . .
Okay, so I said I would ramble a bit, too, and I will.
Before the break, I was doing the thing I do where I ask "What's the point of all of this?" I know that I don't want to be the #1 trialing person in the world and I also know that I don't want a whole batch of dogs that I'd need to produce a solid line of dogs. Heck, breeding is stressful in and of itself. I've realized that I'm not the sort that wants to keep dogs in kennels, even if that means getting better performance out of them. I got into dogs as friends first and that's still my main thing. But over the course of the years, I've always says, "What's the truest thing to the dogs?" That's how I got out of showing in conformation and got into stockdogs. That's how I got into being more interested in the operations of cattle ranches than how to trial. Thing is, will I ever be a cattle woman? Will I need dogs for cows? If I get cows, it's going to be mostly for the dogs (I say mostly because I've ALWAYS wanted ranch life, before dogs, but I won't be doing dairy or special show cattle, get what I'm saying?)
Whenever I get to thinking like this, I'm tempted to quit. Not because I necessarily want to quit, but I have this thing that makes me go, "What's the end purpose here? Do you have one?"
I used to do a lot of art - but I gave it up in college in favor of social time and I didn't go back to it because I knew I wasn't going to practice enough to be in art shows and sell it and I also would prefer to be outdoors. Everything is this cost analysis to me - could I be enjoying myself or using that money wiser? If so, why am I still doing it?
Obviously, not everything has to have an end to the means. I LOVE computer games. I allow myself to play one (Civilization) because I love them so much that I'll lose days playing them - not sleeping, not eating . . . and it's not a good thing. But there's no end to that. Nobody is giving me a gold star for being good at a game I play by myself. In fact, my husband gives me negative stars because I could be doing something way more awesome. But it only costs me time - I don't get frustrated when I lose, it doesn't cost anything now that I have the game . . . and I spend a lot of it trying to problem solve to get better so I figure it's kind of good for me. Ahh, but there's the rub. It's kind of good for me.
Is stockdog stuff good for me? On the whole, probably not.
1. The pressure is enormous. Even away from other Aussie people, I feel myself having to defend myself and my dog for my breed choice, how she works, and if she's good enough. Sometimes it's not external, sometimes it's internal. But there's something in the culture that's ingrained in me that I can't just be like, "Hey, this is fun." It's always like, "This is of consequence." I think it's dog people. I don't ever really feel like that about my other hobbies ever. Bikes are fun! Climbing is fun! Hiking is fun! Even adventure racing - if you lose, hey, you are awesome! Nobody talks shit behind your back because of moves you made or didn't make or climbs you didn't send.
2. The community eats its own. Like I said about pressure, the dog club isn't exactly working hard on rewarding people's good intentions. A lot more negativity comes out of it. Going to social stuff like clinics, lessons, and trials can be hard because certain people like to comment a lot, whether they know what they're doing or not. I've been in dogs and this breed a good solid while and spent a lot of time learning, so you'd think when BS gets slung, it would bounce off, but the fact is . . . it sticks. I think about it. At a trial recently, I was picking The Fury up to get in the truck (she's always had a hard time getting in the back because she's short, and more so now that she's older) and this woman makes a comment about how I'm spoiling my dog again. I always spoiled her too much. Like, really? Did I ask your opinion? I LOVE Fury and my relationship. I think she's awesome. She thinks I'm awesome. I don't think she's spoiled at all. But here I am, months later, and it's still in my ears. And that's the most benign. I've been insulted in so many stupid ways - and it's simply not all that fun to hang around it - there's just too many people reinforcing each other to be like that, so I actively had tried to pull away as much as possible and pick my friends and circles wisely, while being as supportive as I can in the ways I wished I'd be supported.
3. It challenges a lot of my personality - and while it's good to be challenged and grow, we all have really ingrained tendencies that won't really go away. I'm a control freak. I'd do way better in obedience and agility and the dogs would probably like it because they'd be doing it for the cookies and praise and not because this thing inside of them tells them to do it. When I get nervous or lose control, I don't bite and chase, I run my mouth. That's bad for stockdogging especially because commands should be spare and reinforced. I was pretty damn good at showing dogs because yapping and precision weren't over the top every and the training required was minimal. I spent most of the time in the ring thinking, "My God, my dog looks SO good. How can the judge NOT think that?" and any psychotherapist will tell you that kind of positive self talk, especially if reinforced with that point as you go round the ring, is way better than the kind of negative work I do when I'm challenged in other dog stuff.
4. I can't just let my dog be a dog. People care a LOT about this stuff. They judge whether you're worthy to leave your mark and they tell you if you aren't. At the same time, I think it's silly. Especially when I read historical accounts of famous dogs and how low key everything used to be. But instead, I'm always like, "Hmm, how's my dog performing? Would I want another dog like this one? Where would I go elsewhere?" I work pretty hard at warning people off of getting so involved it ruins dog ownership for them in this way. I judge a lot and I'm very much into nonjudgement/nonattachment everywhere else.
So what's a girl to do? Take time off.
While I was taking time off, two things happened that kickstarted me again this round.
1. Kelly Hughes, a woman I very much respect for her training, attitude, and just overall awesome life balances, posted about her dog working at a trial as a sorting dog. In California, this seems to be uncool because a bad sort by a dog can upset the stock, but most other places it seems cool to do. I looked at her post and thought, "You know, that's what is missing here." At Kathy's, though I don't remember a lot of emphasis put on the "point" of doing it, Kathy would rotate you in during lessons as a sorting dog. The Fury would literally vibrate while she watched other dogs work, but she got a lot of chore/pen experience from putting sheep out and bringing them back, etc. It wasn't all trial training and that's the stuff that tells you if you've got a useful dog, I think. So like . . . Kristin, dial back on the trialing training and remember that Aussies need and excel at chores. All the finite stuff comes along much later. Also, this is another key reason why I need my own stock at some point.
2. I mentioned to Elizabeth Robinson about my doggy angst and she gave me some advice that made it all better. Instead of worrying about why things wouldn't work out how I wanted them or whatever, maybe realize that they'll work out however they're supposed to. If I don't want to breed a lot of dogs and I don't want to be the best trialler, there's still a place for me. Over time, I may take on client dogs and help other people learn to do this. If I get a farm and stock, it'll need to pay for itself some way and this is a good way. I'll be able to create my own community that doesn't eat its own (a specialty of mine). If I think about this period of life as a continued internship where I'm learning everything I need to to eventually mentor people of similar mind and greater need (who do want to work dogs on a ranch or in a trial), I'll be better off. That's my end I need. That's the part where it's like, "Why are you doing this?" Because I'm studying to understand this stuff. That's why.
So that's where I'm at.
I'm going to keep at it with my dogs and look forward to the time where I take on another one. I'm going to sit tight and take care of finances and look for a situation that works for my family that allows me to have my own stock close to home. And I'm going to spend an awful lot of time reading, asking questions, and talking to cattlemen who need/use dogs to understand what it is I'm working toward (while learning the economics and operations of cattle so that when it's time, I don't lose my shirt).
And I'll have fun doing it.
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