Memoirs of an Agility Dog #1

by Amos T. Fairchild

the back verandah. A good run could mean the difference between that and fresh chicken.

  When I got the chance at another run I knew I had to make it count, and I could feel the nerves as we went to the ring. Others were already on the course as I got there and all I could do was sit and watch and try not to think too much about blowing it. Sheba was already on her run, I noticed, and she was having a ball. I knew I had to think like that, had to just go with it, but that wasn't going to be easy. And it was tight. I could see that. Even Sheba with her lithe little body was having a hell of a time. But she was fast, damn fast. And doing well, I noticed. At least until the last turn. It was tight, over a jump, and she spun mid air on command, flicked her foot...

  And the bar was down. I knew that one way too well. I wish I had a chicken for every time I flicked a bar like that one. That was one that would get me a nice pose from Hips-Guy, but he wasn't usually angry about it at least. That was good. Sheba's friend seemed fine as well and they walked off in each other's arms. They were both girls and they seemed to get on great, and that was always nice to see.

  Max was up next and I tried not to look. I knew he was going to make me look like a snail after his run. But I couldn't resist. And he flew, seriously. I wasn't sure his legs were even touching the ground sometimes. Even his corners were great. There was no way I could beat that, but then I didn't need to. I just needed a nice clear run. It wasn't about winning, I was sure of that. Hips-Guy had gone home happy plenty of times when I knew I had to have been behind just about everyone. There was the card. That was what mattered. Rocket had always told me the card was more important than anything, certainly worth more than several chickens. A nice clean run would get a card, I was sure of that. And maybe some chicken if I was lucky.

  Toward the end I saw Max really push hard. Unlike myself I had a feeling he really was in it for the win, and that was fine. He was a bit more competitive than I was, and he was a hell of a lot faster. I had a feeling that his human was a bit more athletic as well, and was better at giving directions, but I wasn't about to tell Hips-Guy that.

  But even the greats blow it, just as Sheba had done, and as Max went all out on the home run I heard his human call him off. It was too late, of course, far too late, and the Grim Reaper was quick to put an end to yet another run. I saw Max hit the ground and drop, frozen in place, a worried glance back to his human. I assumed they were friends, at least most of the time, but at the moment one of them was pissed and the other was worried. I had a feeling there was no chicken tonight for Max, that was for sure.

  Then I was up and on the line. I sat at the start and never let my eyes leave Hips-Guy at all. I just lay there breathing; ready to go, watching for the slightest movement, the barest hint of a twitch. When he called I went for it, easily clearing the first jump, ducking around the second and heading for a hoop. It was another one of those tight courses, just as I had expected, but then I knew Sheba had made it around. Of course I carried a little more weight than she did. She was so slim and...

  I ran into a tunnel and paused; gave a good shake. I needed a clear head and needed to concentrate. I knew I couldn't be thinking about Sheba if I wanted to get around the course. If I kept that up I was going to end up slinking out of the ring like Max and I was never going to get any chicken. And now I was losing time. I could hear Hips-Guy calling outside and I wasn't even sure which way was which.

  I took a punt and went for it, hoping I came out the right end of the tunnel. The Grim Reaper was quiet, so that was hopeful. Then I went for it, tried to make up some time, tried to keep my feet up so I didn't blow it like Sheba – tried the hell not to even think about Sheba. This was the full course, with every crazy piece of equipment the humans could come up with, so I needed my wits. There were even the planks to deal with, and I could see the Grim Reaper was watching those hard, making sure I put every damn foot in the right place. All I could do was crawl until Hips-Guy was happy and told me to go.

  There was even the damn see-saw, the ones like the kids use in the park, and I really hated those things. Some damn human kids toy that no self-respecting dog should ever have to deal with. Again the Grim Reaper was right on top of me, watching. Again I was down in the creep, looking for a signal from Hips-Guy as the plank hit the ground. Then it was go, another jump, then the tight corner where Sheba lost it, my legs tucked neat. I didn't even dare twitch.

  When I hit the ground there was a tunnel right there and I went for it, a nice easy entry, something I couldn't miss. And I was close, so close when I heard the call-off. I looked to Hips-Guy, saw him heading for another jump, felt my whiskers brush against the rim of the tunnel. Then I flicked my tail and dug deep, clawing at the grass as I went for the jump.

  As I hit the ground I could only see dogs in front of me and I looked back toward Hips-Guy. I was in a crouch, unsure, waiting for the call – but I could see the smile and saw his arms go up. I knew that pose as well and it beat the hell out of the hands on hips. I turned and ran at him, jumping as I did. He caught me on the fly and I licked hard. He deserved a lick after that run, I was sure of it. I even caught a glimpse of the Grim Reaper, and they looked happy as well. That had to be a good sign, maybe even a card – maybe even chicken.

  There was a nod from Boris as well, and that was somehow a lot more comforting than it had been earlier in the day, then we walked back to camp. Rocket seemed pleased when I arrived as well. “Faster than me,” he was saying. “Of course in my day you wouldn't have had a hope.”

  I laughed it off, but he was probably right. I didn't care either way. Hips-Guy was happy and even Rocket's two human friends offered some of the food they had to spare. It wasn't chicken but it was still good. I gave the girl an extra sniff while I was there, noticed her shape as well. Then I looked to Rocket. “She almost looks like she has pups on the way,” I thought to say to Rocket, although regretted it almost immediately. I knew that could be a good or a bad thing, and like all I had heard some of the horror stories out there. Human pups could be hard to handle at times.

  “Aye,” he sighed back. “I think you'll be right on that one. Could be in for some interesting times I think.”

  I gave a nod and let it drop, but I worried over that for some time as I curled up in the crate. Then I noticed Rocket sleeping on a lap not long after. He was a good guy so I had a feeling he would be fine, no matter what happened.

  In time the day drew to an end. There were no more runs. I stretched as Hips-Guy rose and noticed he still looked happy enough. There was still the strange human ceremony to go, of course. They always held that at the end of the day. I didn't mind, as there were often cool toys or even food involved. That was always good. There was also the possibility of the card, and I saw a few of those handed to happy humans. Quite a few would be getting chicken tonight, I sighed.

  In time even Hips-Guy went to the altar as well. There was a trophy for the shelves and a strip of cloth that shone much as the sky did above. Both were pretty, of course, but not very edible. I was more interested in other things, mostly cards and chicken. When I saw the card I knew it had been a good day and I was happy. There was chicken on the menu for sure and with a little luck I'd even be sleeping on the couch, maybe even the foot of the bed.

  Max was near as we walked away, smiling softly. “Lucky bastard,” he was saying, but without any malice, his tail low and wagging gently.

  Sheba was there as well. She didn't wag, but there was a smile and a gentle nod. “Nice run Steve,” she said. “Well won.”

  I looked to her, speechless. Damn she was cute, and she knew my name. All I could do was stand there and wag my tail. Even without chicken I doubted the day could get much better.

  Much later, as I curled up on the couch and watched Hips-Guy put the trophy on the shelf I had to wonder when I might see Sheba again. Maybe I could even get my human friend to get to know her human friend a little better perhaps. Now that was something I'd give a whole bunch of chicken to see.

 
Then I thought about them mating and having pups. Maybe that wasn't such a great idea after all. The last thing I needed was a bunch more humans in the house eating my damn chicken.

  .o0o.

  About the Author:

  Amos T. Fairchild is a farmer, writer, dog collector and destroyer of worlds too numerous to mention who is currently based in blissful and often cyclone ravaged northern Queensland, Australia. Born in April 1962 and author of several novels and short stories, he is currently documenting significant events in a number of parallel dimensions over a period of some seventy-three million standard years and releasing the details in an ebook format of your choice.

  For the latest news and releases please read the author's blog at: https://amostfairchild.blogspot.com/