The Englishman, the Scotsman, the Irishman and the Welshman.

No, this is not going to be another of those jokes invoking tired national stereotypes. Nor is it a reference to the independence debate.

And in fact it should truly be the Englishwoman, the Scotsmen and women, the Welshman, the Irish dog and the American…

All of these were present at the Royal Highland Showground, venue for last Saturday's dogs agility show.

The Englishwoman here, is of course Gail.

Note that she is looking mightily relieved and this is because, despite her woeful lack of commitment to training for the team relay event, we did not mess up in any major way and our team exceeded expectations by coming a respectable fifth (out of eleven).

See, Gail's team mates, Scotswomen Yvonne and Alison and our inspirational Texan team captain Jeri, were even still happy to pose with her after the event.

Yvonne and Phoebe, Alison and Maddie, Gail and Bertie, Jeri (Burns is hiding) 

The Irish dog I want to tell you about is this well cropped WFT pup Hayley.

Hayley is eleven years old and now retired from agility, but she had travelled all the way over from Ulster with her family - her sibling spaniels were in the competition. Gail was most impressed to learn that Hayley had reached Grade 6 in her agility career. She is quite a lot smaller than me. I think she is cute. 

Over in a different part of the showground on Saturday the Scottish Kennel Club were running their version of Crufts. Gosh there were a lot of very handsome pups strutting about the place. 

The Welshman was sat at a table outside the show arena when we walked past. He beckoned Gail over and told her she was a lady of excellent taste. 

You will have guessed that he was not referring to her dress sense. He wanted to know all about me, admiring my markings, my bone structure, my muscles, and my alert demeanour. He even asked if he could look at my teeth. (I have to tell you that did not go too well…) At this point the penny dropped and Gail asked if he was a show judge. It turned out we were talking to Mr Gerrard Morris, judge for the terrier group at Crufts earlier this year. Remember that a WFT won the terrier group? Gail found this picture on the internet. My new friend is the rosy cheeked chappie on the left. 

As for the Scotsmen and women well duh, I hear you thinking, we were in Edinburgh, of course there would be plenty of those, even at Festival time. 

This is true, but what we had on Saturday, in yet another part of the Showground, were hordes of bagpipe playing, kilt wearing, particularly Scottish looking Scots, all participating in a huge pipe band contest. 

You know, the Royal Highland Showground is not a place for lovers of tranquillity.

As if multiple pipe bands playing simultaneously next to a field of hyped up agility dogs did not provide enough noise, then you also had a nearby fairground blasting out loud music and, above, planes from the adjacent Edinburgh airport taking off every fifteen minutes or so.

To be honest, a bit too much excitement, even for me…

Back home and enjoying some peace and quiet.

Bertie keeps things in perspective

"Oh look, isn't he cute. You don't see many wire-haired fox terriers doing agility".

So said a lady to her friend when she spotted me at the Granite City Dog Agility Show last weekend. It was towards the end of the second day of competition. Gail smiled and replied:

"Hmmm, there might be a good reason for that." Then, under her breath, and less smilingly, she muttered something about "a catalogue of disasters".

You know, I was hurt that Gail chose to regard my six straight eliminations, mostly a result of my wholly understandable reluctance to enter a dark tunnel with a soft flappy piece of material blocking the exit, as disastrous.

Much better to look on the bright side of life, is it not? I decided it was time to enumerate the many positives from the weekend so far:

1. It had been warm and sunny on both days and even better, Gail remembered her hat and her sun block so her pale and freckly skin did not turn lobster coloured, unlike that of one or two of the other humans present.

2. We were fortunate that fellow Deeside Dog Agility Club members Arlene, Kevin and Jo were on hand and happy to push the Mini out of the mud after the shady parking spot Gail so carefully selected turned out to be in the middle of a bog.

3. We were also lucky that Kevin has a sense of humour and did not mind everyone laughing when his face was spattered with mud when Gail finally managed to shift the car.

4. We were delighted to meet fellow blogger 'Vonnie' from Fife and see her talented Shelties fly round the ring.

5. We were very proud of DDAC member Jake, judging his first show, at age eighteen the youngest, and by a mile the smartest of the judges on duty over the weekend.

6. Once past the dreaded 'soft tunnel' I put in an impressively energetic and mostly accurate run on my sixth and final class, at a stage in the game when many other dogs were fading.

Well I could have gone on, but Gail still didn't seem convinced that the weekend had been a great success.

I then remembered that behind the agility field at Hazlehead Park lies a very special garden, and I decided to take Gail the short walk round there for a break.

Look here I am in the Piper Alpha Memorial Rose Garden.

The statue in the middle was built to commemorate the 167 men who died when a North Sea oil platform was engulfed by fire and collapsed, back in 1988.

What a tragic waste of lives. Now that was truly a disaster.

After a few minutes contemplating the roses, whose delicate fragrance was strong enough as to be detectable even by feeble human scent organs, Gail agreed to amend her evaluation of my agility performance from "disastrous" to "a minor hiatus in a soon-to-be glittering agility career".

And she gave me a big hug.

Local Hero in waiting?

So I was expecting to spend the weekend in intensive training at the agility field, commencing the mammoth task of bringing Gail up to scratch in time for the big team relay event in late August.

It was not to be.

On Friday afternoon my dear owner pointed the car northwards and said, as if without a care in the world, come on Bertie, hey ho, we're invited to a party at Molly's in Macduff.

Do you suppose Novak Djokovic or Roger Federer prepared for Wimbledon by swanning off to the Moray Firth to visit old university friends for a summer barbecue? Would Lionel Messi improve his dribbling skills by staying out late emptying bottles of rosé and scoffing sausage rolls, burgers and strawberry gateau?

I'm telling you, with Gail's attitude to training, Chris Froome would struggle to pedal up Holme Moss, much less La Planche des Belles Filles or the Tourmalet.

What is a pup to do?

Well OK, we had a nice enough time at the party, even if torrential rain forced the barbecue indoors. And I did get a chance to practice both being admired (by the other partygoers) and being tolerant of uppity dogs - yes I mean you, Maisie the Lurcher with your glossy black coat and your Suarez-like teeth baring tendencies.

You will already have guessed we did not rush back to Aberdeen that night so as to be up bright and early rehearsing baton changes.

But even I was surprised when next morning Gail insisted on taking me to visit a phone box…

Yes, you read that right. We drove east a few miles along the coast from Macduff and ended up in the village of Pennan…

…all so Gail could take a photograph of me in front of a traditional red telephone box.

As if Apple and Samsung had never existed.

I'll grant you that Pennan is a cute wee place, really just a row of cottages sandwiched between sea and cliff,  with the only landward access via a narrow and precipitous road.

And whilst I was wholly unimpressed by the phone box (after all, there are plenty still around in the UK), Gail assures me that fans of the 1983 film 'Local Hero' will understand  why this particular one is so special.

A Good Team Player…or the Weakest Link?

I had a peek at Gail's email yesterday - fellow pups, don't pretend you never do the same - and was most excited to see this from one of our of the trainers at Deeside Dog Agility Club.

Hi Gail

Since you are not on Facebook, I thought I'd email you to ask whether you would be interested in being part of the Deeside team aiming to qualify for Crufts?

The format is a team of 4 dogs/handlers (+ up to 2 reserves) running an agility course in relay with the winners of the qualifying heat progressing to Crufts 2015. The qualifying heat is on Saturday 23rd of August at the Scottish Kennel Club Show in Ingliston, Edinburgh. Crufts is early March 2015 at the NEC in Birmingham. If you were wanting to be part of the team, you would be committing to attend the SKC show and, hopefully, Crufts should you qualify.

At present, the Medium team consists of Jeri + Burns, Alison + Maddie and Yvonne + Phoebe. We hope to add Denise + Scally (yet tbc) and yourself to make up the team + 1 reserve.

It should be noted that a relay is not simply about speed, with consistency and an ability to not get eliminated being important components of a good team.

Let me know what you think. I'll be at training tomorrow night so give me a shout if you want to chat it through. The closing date for entry is ~15/7.

Thanks and regards.

….

Oh my goodness I am so flattered. Imagine me at Crufts! I am going to be a star. What could possibly stop me?

You can trust my human to pour cold water on a pup's dreams of glory.

Gail is pointing out that there are rather few medium sized dogs in our club, in fact probably only five, so making the team is nothing to bark about. Also, rather nastily I thought, she mentions the minor detail that I have yet to be promoted from Grade 1, the lowest level of agility, so may not exactly be considered an asset to a team otherwise comprised of high achievers.

Still, she agreed we could take part.

Neither Gail nor I are sure of the rules for an agility relay. I will admit that at least two of the dogs in the team are, to put it diplomatically, not my best friends, and, on mature consideration, I don't think I would be prepared to engage with them in mouth-to-mouth baton passing.

Can anyone enlighten me as to how it all works?

The need for speed...

Gail, can I have quiet word? You see I am feeling rather disappointed.

Disappointed? Oh Bertie, it's not because we didn't have a chance to mingle with any of those wedding guests at the Sky Lodge Hotel in New Scone on Saturday night is it?


No, no, no Gail, it's not that. After all, I was too tired to be on 'meet and greet' duty anyway. No, I am disappointed that my best position at the Fair City Dog Agility Show was second, when to progress to Grade 2, I needed a win.


Oh Bertie, but I was so proud of you. Two clear rounds out of three, and no eliminations. You did brilliantly. If only you had been a wee bit faster, you would have had a first for sure. 

Well yes. A bit faster. Quite. So Gail, I wanted to ask you something about your cycling club friends.

My cycling friends! Bertie, whatever next?

I am right in thinking, am I not, that you have been knocking around with these folk since you lived in London in the 1980's and 90's?

Er yes…..

Well it seems to me that, given, you know, all we've read in the papers about Lance Armstrong etc, that maybe some of your friends might, er, might be able to advise me on how to, well, er, to chemically enhance my performance…?

BERTIE! Did I hear that right? I am SO SHOCKED. My friends are touring cyclists not racing cyclists and certainly we have NEVER taken those sorts of drugs. You should be ashamed of yourself for even thinking such a thing.

But, but, but. Oh I am sorry Gail, I didn't mean to cause offence. It's just that some of the other agility dogs are so much quicker than me. Like, the one who beat me to second place got round in ten seconds less than I took. I just don't think I can run that fast without some sort of extra help.

Well now Bertie, I agree that a couple of your rivals would appear to be rocket propelled, but they also make mistakes. You are accurate and clever on the tight turns and rarely knock poles over or miss your contacts. Of course, it doesn't help when you just amble over the dog walk admiring the view. But remember Bertie, there is no point in doing agility if you and I are not having fun. If you don't want to carry on, just say.

Not carry on with agility? You are joking, right? I mean, going to training and seeing all my pals is the highlight of my week. And I have noticed that you Gail are finally starting to get a bit better at giving me directions and your arm signals are less confusing than formerly. It is satisfying to watch you improve.

And anyway, where else could I find such a rich source of material for my blog…

What, no bravery award?

I guess my readers in drier parts of the world don't have to deal with these sorts of problems.

Have you any idea how scary it is to negotiate an agility course in the rain and mud?

So I was down in Dundee on Saturday, taking part in my first outdoor competition of the new season.

I have blogged before about my relatively high centre of gravity and associated 'stability issues'. Imagine now encountering a seesaw covered in a thin film of mud, dampened by a persistent East Coast haar, near the start of an eighteen obstacle run.

You know, I did so well not to fall right over when I slipped and stumbled just at the point when the seesaw tipped. And for sure, a less plucky pup would have jumped straight off and headed for home. Not me though! Despite being quite frightened, I bravely continued round the course, a bit more cautiously usual, I admit, but not missing any of my contacts. I did knock down one of the later hurdles as my wee paws skidded again in the mire on a tight turn. This too was unnerving as, unlike certain other dogs in my agility club (I'll name no names) I rarely mistime my jumps and so am not well accustomed to the clattering sound of a falling pole at close range. But still I carried on, undaunted.

Can you believe that after such an awesome display of courage in the competition ring, I left the show with nothing but a "well done Bertie" from Gail and a couple of extra gravy bones.

In Dundee harbour, just down the road from the agility show, rests a famous ship, 'The Discovery'. It was used in Captain Robert Scott's first Antarctic expedition in 1901-4. I don't think I am overstating things when I compare my feats on Saturday, heroic although ultimately unsuccessful, to those of the great but flawed British Antarctic explorer.

Oh. Gail says I am (overstating things that is). Just a wee bit.

The 'Discovery'

Freestyle

In winter it is important to supplement one's formal sessions in the barn with freestyle agility training in a variety of outdoor settings. 

One can practice one's weaves in the local park:

Recent storms have provided plenty of opportunities to refine one's tunnelling technique:

Retaining one's balance while cornering at speed is tricky on snowy hill tracks:

Better not miss my contact on this particular dog walk:

Some descents are steeper than any 'A' frame:

Now why am I being asked to pose just here…?

That is so NOT FUNNY Gail.

Maybe mountain bikers aren't so bad after all...

So I was about to jump in the back of the Mini after my latest agility competition adventure, when two passing - and agreeably muddy - mountain bikers, father and son, clocked my handsome self and stopped by for a chat with Gail.

Turns out they have a two year old foxy, from Granddach Kennels like me, and had observed that I was the spit of their wee fellow, Bob. As was confirmed when father asked son to show us Bob's picture on his iPhone.

Then father gave me a nice belly rub and complimented me on my lean and muscular physique (yes really), while Gail looked proudly on. To be honest, I was quite pleased at this point not to be wearing my birthday jumper, as these mountain bikers just possibly might not have recognised said sweater for the manly garment that you and I know it to be…

Oh and did I mention I won two more rosettes at the agility show?

Spam or Polony?

So we were at another Agility Show last weekend, this time in Broughty Ferry, near Dundee. In between my first round (for which I scored an 'E', which stands for Excellent I believe) and my second round, (where Gail says I would have won my class had I been just a little more patient and not bounced off the see-saw prematurely) we visited Jim's* catering van, and witnessed the following scene:

Morag and Edie are evaluating the menu.

"Now then Jim, d'ye have any o'  tha' polony the day?"

"Aye, it's awa' roond the back. Just bide there a wee while Morag."

Jim disappears into the rear of the truck while Morag and Edie continue talking.

"Fit's polony, Morag?"

"Ye dinnae ken fit polony is Edie? It's, er, it's well it's polony, ken?"

Gail intervenes helpfully.

"It's a sort of processed sausage. My granny used to make us polony sandwiches when I was a child. I haven't seen it for decades."

Jim returns with some pinkish rounds of meat, to which Edie responds:

"Isnae tha' spam?"

"It's nae spam, it's polony."

"Fit's the difference?"

"Spam's affa dear the day."

Jim comes over all Monty Python.

"Spam, spam spam, spam, spam!"

Gail offers this:

"Did you know that spam is a mainstay of South Korean cuisine?"**

She is met with polite but bemused smiles, orders a bacon roll, and leads me away.

You know, I wouldn't have minded trying some of that polony.


*All names except Gail's are fictional.
**We are indebted to our friends at Retro Rover for this fascinating piece of information!

Winning tips for Oz

Oz

My darling godmother Tootsie has a fur-cousin Oz who is thinking of taking up Agility, and, on the strength of my two recent and long awaited rosettes, Tootsie has asked if I can give Oz some top tips for success in this thrilling sport.

Oh I just love this type of question don't you? Basically: "Please explain why you so are so brilliant?" Much favoured, one notes, by career-minded Tory backbenchers at Prime Minister's Question Time.

I digress.

So, yes of course Oz my friend, I would be delighted to give you the benefit of my hard won experience.

I have four important pieces of advice.

(I seem to recall that Oz lives in Italy, so to circumvent any language barrier I have also, in my own inimitable style, provided some self-explanatory - I hope - sketches to communicate my main points.)

Tip no. 1: Always make sure you have an experienced handler. One who knows her left from her right even under pressure, who can retain in her head the order of more than two obstacles at a time, and who can be guaranteed not to stumble over any of them herself…

Tip no. 2: Tolerant trainers are a must. The sort who understand that if the training field is adjacent to a field where horses are grazing, then every once in a while the urge to dash across to the fence to say hi to Dobbin cannot be resisted, even if it means crossing the path of the senior grade 'swotty collie' types as they prepare for high level competition.


Tip no. 3: Choose a club with pretty girl pups! Sometimes it can be a bit boring waiting for the other dogs to have their go round the set obstacle course, especially when they are even more erratic performers than oneself, and what better way to while away the time than to flirt with a fluffy wee bichon frisé (for example).

Tip no. 4: NEVER EVER POOP ON THE 'A' FRAME….


Oz, I wish you all the best in your Agility endeavours. I mean, how could you possibly go wrong now…?