Chapter 42 
(January 2013):

Jump, Spot, Jump!

My goodness! Look how long it’s been since I dictated a chapter to Mummy. Meanwhile I turned 13 and my dumb brother 4. Like most Wheatens I got my brain at the age of 3; Diarmuid’s still waiting for one.

Mummy retired from school this year, which means she’s home more and has more time for us. Really? That calendar has more dates on it than ever before! But yes, we do get to practice more. At my age, I’m not allowed to do winter training in Rally Obedience in the cold hall, but Mummy works with me at home on “sit-lie-up-stay at a distance” and other exercises which I will need if I feel like competing in spring. I am the first dog in our region to reach Rally class 3, so I might want to try that level once or twice. Problem is, I have my bad tummy days when I don’t want to eat. No appetite, no treats, no practice. On my good days, when I’m begging, Mummy works with me on the Tulip and the Crocus on our walks. I can already do the send-away jump but I certainly take my time.


The status of chapter 40 changed and I beat out my brother, winning the Grinsekopp trophy for the 2nd time. Nananananana! That’s what you get for bashing into me every time you get out of the shower to wash your feet.

Diarmuid quickly received his 3 qualifications to graduate from Rally Beginner to Rally Class 1. (I was already in Class 2, of course.) Just before his next competition, Trainer Ela called to say that he had to give up agility because he was taking off too early on the jumps and she didn’t want to see him landing on the bar and breaking his ribs. Diarmuid’s ribs were saved but Mummy’s heart was broken; she had bought him to succeed me in the sport of her passion. He was allowed to continue in Rally Obedience, however. There is only one jump and it is lower. Mummy
couldn’t understand why that one wouldn’t break his ribs, especially as it doesn’t give way, but she kept him in Rally and we took part in the next trials. At the jump, Mummy was afraid to tell him to jump for fear he would take off early, so she just led him to the jump and he crashed into it. That was the end of that! The ninny wasn’t going to have anything else to do with one of those things. He wouldn’t even go near the wall in the hall where a jump had once been stored.

Mummy brought a jump home to walk around in the yard. He walked. And piddled on it. So the twerp was back in Beginners, where there is no jump. Again he made the qualifications to move up to Class 1 again, even winning first place. But there is a jump in Class1.

Last summer when Mummy was working at our club’s agility trials and sighing because she wouldn’t be able to compete again, Trainer Ela jumped up and disappeared. Mummy saw her talking to a young competitor, who turned out to be an animal psychologist that specializes in jump training. Mummy reached them in time to hear Ela say, “ ... so that he’ll at least do the jump in Rally and maybe a bit of agility.”


Fast Forward: Mummy and Diarmuid drive 70 minutes to Jade every week no matter what weather (mostly rain and mud but also the preferred snow and ice). Annika has worked with him on dealing with jumps of all kinds. Diarmuid now jumps with a fine curve, does the teeter and the slalom independently and will be allowed to take part in an agility seminar the end of this month. Annika has his number. Mummy’s, too.  ;-)  Last week at Rally training, he took the jump happily. But he won’t catch up with me.




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