…It’s still best to put everything in writing anyway.

We’ve all heard the horror stories about puppy sales, stud contracts, co-ownerships, leases, etc. gone wrong.  They happen in all breeds, with all kinds of people.  Sometimes there is a written contract in place, sometimes there isn’t.  It becomes especially sticky when the agreement in question is between friends.  No one wants to get all Philadelphia-lawyer on their pals and present them with a 10-page document full of legalese, but the fact is that selling and breeding and showing dogs is a business (albeit a not-very-profitable one), and it really should be treated as such.

Lest you think I’m holding myself up as some kind of perfect example, I am totally preaching from my glass house, here:  I have four dogs, purchased from three different breeders, and in each and every case I have signed nothing but a check (and the AKC registration when I sent it in).  I consider each of these ladies to be a friend, a colleague, a mentor, and I like them all very much.  I have had no problem whatsoever with any of those breeders, nor do I anticipate that I ever will have.

But what if I did?

Look, I’m not so naive as to think that a signed contract, no matter how carefully crafted, is going to prevent any dispute from arising.  I was a paralegal, people; I know better.  Nor do I believe that it is always feasible or cost-effective to pursue a breach of contract through the legal system.  Again, I know better.

So why bother with it at all?  Because at the very least, what a written contract provides is a clear set of expectations, understood and agreed to, between the two parties.  That way, when emotions are running high and the fingers start pointing, the terms of the agreement are right there in black and white to refer to.

All right then, so what do you do when you feel that the other party is not living up to his/her end of the agreement?

DO:  Look at your contract (if you have one) and see how the situation is supposed to be addressed.

DO:  Look at any email or other correspondence you have had with the other party; during the course of those conversations, the situation may have been discussed and a solution is clear.

DO:  Assume that the other party is well-intentioned.  No, seriously.  Misunderstandings occur ALL THE TIME.  Most people do NOT set out to screw other people over.  So if you’re feeling as though you’ve been somehow wronged, TALK ABOUT IT.  Approach the subject, express what you feel the problem is, and give the other person the opportunity to address it.  You may well find that what you thought was malicious intent was really just a thoughtless oversight, or a general misunderstanding.  Problem-solve it together.  Consensus solves more than conflict ever will.

DO NOT:  Fly at the other person, guns blazing, and send threatening letters/emails/phone messages, etc.  Because you know what?  There are very few people who have the clout to go around acting like a Class A Douchenozzle without facing repercussions for it; chances are very,very good that you are not one of them.  So, don’t be a Class A Douchenozzle.

DO NOT:  Assume that what you perceive as the other person breaching the agreement gives you carte blanche to ignore your own obligations.  You learned it in kindergarten:  Two wrongs do not make a right.

DO NOT:  Go on Twitter or Facebook or Blogger or any other social media outlet and blast the person in a public forum.  (And don’t think you’re being all cagey and secretive by not using names.  You’re not.)  Most ESPECIALLY do not do that in lieu of actually, you know, talking directly TO the person.  Everyone loves a good bit of gossip or scandal, and people are always willing to dogpile on others, but the dog world is a very small sandbox.  Don’t shit in it.

Finally, if all reasonable avenues of resolution have been exhausted, consider your legal options.  You may have a case that is worth pursuing through the court system, you may not.  The strength of it will lie in the written agreement between both parties.

And that old thing about verbal agreements being worth the paper they’re printed on?  Yeah.  That’s about it.

With only three handling classes under her belt, Whiskey is doing an awesome job with free-stacking.  She responds easily to body cues, and we’re gradually increasing the amount of time she’ll hold a stack.  She gaits beautifully and naturally, so there hasn’t been a whole lot I’ve had to do in that department.

But the accursed table!!  Whatever that special touch is, I don’t have it.  Other people can put a puppy on a table, place their feet, hold their heads up, and snap a lovely photo and/or make a lovely presentation for the judge.  I set a puppy on the table, and it’s swaying back on it’s haunches, arching up its back, and moving around like it has swallowed Mexican jumping beans.  [Did you know that those jump because there are worms inside, trying to get out?  Gross!] 

{Disclaimer:  my puppy does NOT have worms moving around inside, trying to get out.}

ANYway, it’s incredibly frustrating.  And I’m sure my frustration only feeds the problem and makes the puppy more nervous, which makes me even more frustrated… and on and on the cycle goes.  I have a similar problem with hard-stacking my dogs, always have.  They do much, much better if I free-stack them, so that’s what I’ve always done, but it would be really nice to have the option to hard-stack when you don’t have the time to maneuver them into optimal position with free-baiting.

I DID notice that, if I set Whiskey on the table and then basically cue her to freestack, she does a pretty good job.  The problem is that you have precious little time in the show ring, and I want to be able to present the proper silhouette to the judge.

Aargh!!  What can I do improve at this?

Those would be “weaves” + EVIL.  At least that’s how Elli and I look at them.   Anyway, the good news is that Elli was doing 6 weave poles at last week’s class.  The bad news is that it was a set of 12.  *sigh*  Baby steps…

I was hoping to have photos of Elli doing something great — or at least mildly competent — at agility class, but since my camera is a piece of @#$% and can’t take action shots worth a damn, there was nothing worth uploading and posting.

I’m looking forward to the warmer weather;  my agility instructor does run-throughs at the barn behind his training facility on Sunday mornings, and once it warms up a little bit I plan to start going to those again.  Unlike our class building, we have room at the barn to set up an entire course and pull out all of the contact equipment, such as the dog walk and teeter.  Sometimes we have standard courses, sometimes we do a colors course or jackpot or one of the other games courses that they do in CPE agility.  I think/hope/pray we start improving more once we’re coursing again.  Will we ever be ready to trial?

I think Elli will be.  Me?

Oy.

But there are people who are much newer than me, and they have questions.  LOTS of questions.  And, sometimes, I’m not sure how to answer them.

It’s not a problem with not knowing the answer; if that’s the case, I will never hesitate whatsoever to say, “I don’t know.”  What I sometimes have difficulty with is just HOW to answer their questions, or how much to tell them.  I don’t want to lay this massive info-dump on them when what they want is a one-sentence answer.  And it’s hard to guess how much they already know.  Am I going to offend them by being too basic?  Or talk over their heads if I assume they know too much?  Sometimes I feel like I’m ass-deep in alligators, and navigating a minefield at the same time.  And yet, I want to try and be helpful.  I’ve benefited greatly from the generosity of other Cardigan breeders who have taken the time to mentor me, and I’d like to pay that forward.

How do you all handle it when approached?

Magnum, as ever, wanted to play:

Ian turned up his nose at that idea:

But Ella and Whiskey were up for the challenge:

Blue on blue violence

Though sometimes it’s nice when it’s just us girls:

Ever wonder why they call it “living in the sticks?”:

After a brief romp, everyone more or less recovered their dignity:

In case you’re wondering, yes, Elli was invited to come outside to play with everyone else.  However, Herself would not deign to run around the yard outside, in the weather, like some kind of an animal.  She reportedly spent the entire time on the porch, looking woebegone and put upon, and just ever so Over It.   So, no photos of Her Royal Highness.

Dog with news anchor, seconds before he bites her

You may have seen on this morning’s newscast a story coming out of Denver, wherein a KUSA news anchor was bitten in the face yesterday as she did a segment on “Argentine Mastiff” Max, who was rescued by firefighters after falling through the ice on a local pond.  Because the broadcast was live, the bite was captured on film and is, inevitably, viewable all over the internet.

This incident just makes me profoundly sad on so many levels.  Sad for the folks watching the news when what should have been a feel-good story took a dramatic turn for the worse, sad for the newscaster who will now carry physical and emotional scars for life, sad for the dog who is now in quarantine and whose future is uncertain, all because of something that should never have happened in the first place.

Someone for whom I don’t feel particularly sad?  Max’s owner, who let him down multiple times and in multiple ways.  He let him down by letting him off-leash — in violation of local leash laws — to run out on the frozen pond to “go do his business.”  He let him down by failing to vaccinate Max in accordance with local rabies vaccination laws.  He let him down by agreeing to appear on television with the dog, placing him a strange and stressful situation.  And he let him down by failing to protect him from that situation, forcing Max to protect himself.

I watched the video.  If you know anything at all about dogs and about their body language, you could see that bite coming from a mile away.  The news anchor, a stranger to Max, was all over him.  Touching him all over, leaning into his personal space, holding his head between both of her hands, and ultimately leaning her face into his, presumably to give him a kiss.  This dog was licking his lips, panting, yawning, trying to pull his head away, and finally giving her the side eye and showing his teeth seconds before the bite occurred.  He was plainly telling her in no uncertain terms to back the hell off.

The news anchor, who was apparently not dog savvy, didn’t see those warning signs.  Max’s owner, who was holding his collar at the time, DAMN WELL SHOULD HAVE.  Live and on-air or not, he had a duty to both Max and to the newscaster to assure that the situation would be safe.  He failed.  Epicly.  As a result, the dog bit.  I think it’s important to note that Max didn’t continue to try and go after her, didn’t latch onto and maul her.  He bit her to get her out of his face.

As anchors on KUSA sister station WZZM pointed out, there has been plenty of criticism of the news anchor for the role she played in the bite.  One of them, a gentleman who had suffered a dog attack as a child (like, way to be unbiased, WZZM), said, “Don’t blame the human for this.  None of us are given classes in how to treat dogs.”

He has a point.  We’re NOT given classes in how to deal with dogs, or cats, or any other kind of domesticated animal, nor are those classes likely to land on a public school curriculum any time soon, much as we may wish otherwise.  Common sense (which is so clearly NOT AT ALL “common”) would seem to dictate that someone planning on getting close to an animal to do a news segment on it would try and educate herself, but that didn’t happen.  The dog’s owner — the person who had a duty to educate both himself and anyone else coming into contact with his dog — dropped the ball.  HE’S the human to blame.

So instead of a feel-good story about a dog rescue that went well, what we can take away from this incident is a valuable object lesson:  As dog owners, we have a duty to our dogs to assure that this kind of situation doesn’t happen to them.  What kind of a dog can/will bite?  Any dog with teeth.  Some are more easily tipped over the edge, but any dog is capable of biting given a bad enough set of circumstances.  They depend on us to keep those circumstances from occurring.

Let’s not let them down.

I’ve been showing Magnum for the last 18 months, off and on.  He free-stacks like nobody’s business, he (most of the time) gaits well on lead, and he’s even gotten so that he’s not completely impossible on the table.  We know each other’s body language, and I only need to move a knee a little, or signal with a finger to get him to adjust whichever foot I want.  It has been so long now that I forget that there was once a time when he was bouncing around like a super-ball, spazzing on the table, and jumping all over me when I got the bait out.

Last night, I took Whiskey to her first handling class.  Unlike my other puppies, she has not gone through a session of puppy kindergarten, for reasons that are probably best left to their own blog post.  I have had her out and around town for socialization, and I took her to the Fitchburg shows to walk around a bit and soak up the atmosphere, but I wasn’t really sure what to expect from her when venturing into a class environment, and her at only 4.5 months old.

Whiskey did look a little bit intimidated — for all of about 90 seconds.  But by the time I had taken my coat off and filled out the class form, she had come out from hiding behind my legs and was looking around curiously at the other dogs in class:  an Aussie, a Tervuren, another Cardigan, and a Chow Chow puppy.  Pretty soon, we formed a line and started working on free-stacking and…

You guys… OMG, I love this puppy!!  She just gets it, you know?  Seriously, she was picking up on body cues and moving herself into position as fast as you could snap your fingers.  Five minutes of class and boom!  She could hit a reasonable facsimile of a stack.  I don’t know how much of it is that she’s just a calmer, more focused puppy than my others have been, and how much is the fact that I’ve got the experience of handling three other dogs of my own plus miscellaneous others along the way, but she just seemed to catch on so, so quickly.

It’s not always easy to look at your own dog’s movement, especially while you’re holding the leash, but I was able to give Whiskey a little lead and watch her side gait, and I’m really happy with what I’m seeing so far.  I know she’s only 4.5 months old, and she has a lot of growing and developing to do, but I’m crossing my fingers and getting kind of excited, even though I’m telling myself not to yet.

My only disappointment with the class was that the instructor had forgotten to bring the table, so we were not able to do any table work.  Since I am in close contention for the title of Worst Table Trainer In The World, I really want to focus a lot on that between now and Whiskey’s ring debut in April.  In hindsight, though, I almost think it might have been better this way; Whiskey got the first class to settle in and build some confidence without us having to face the dreaded table, and I will be more relaxed next week after seeing her adapt so well to the new situation this week.

I plan to whine and plead with Kate to come with me to the next class and bring her camera; if I can talk her into it, I’ll hopefully have some photos to share next week.  ’Til then, I’ll be here, determinedly squelching the little “squee!” that’s trying to escape, lest I anger the Fates and they cast some hideous aspersion on this very promising puppy.

I adore the Cardigan Welsh Corgi.  Not a breed I had ever really considered, I didn’t realize I wanted or needed one until I had him.  From that moment, there was no turning back.  I truly don’t believe that there is any other breed of dog so well-suited to me in every way.  But even though other breeds would not suit me so well for one reason or another, I  carry a soft spot for them.

So, come meet my imaginary dogs:

The Cavalier King Charles Spaniel

Why I have an imaginary one:  Often described as “love sponges,” Cavaliers are probably the gentlest, sweetest, prettiest little dogs imaginable.  The melting expression, the soft, silky coat, the beautiful long ears…  I dream of snuggling into a blanket to watch my TV shows with one of these little darlings.

Why I don’t have a real one:  First of all, let’s talk about the health issues.  Patellas, heart problems, skin conditions, eye problems… you name it, they’ve got it.  I realize that health problems can occur in any dog of any breed, but why start with the deck so stacked against me?  Second, how would that little love sponge feel when I left it every day to go to work?  They were bred for one purpose:  to be a companion dog.  How fair would it be to take its sole purpose for existing away from it, all day, every day?  Third, small litters plus increasing demand plus the aforementioned problem with breeding healthy dogs = an expensive and hard to come-by little dog.

The Doberman Pinscher

Why I have an imaginary one:  So regal, so statuesque, so stunningly athletic…  There are few sights more impressive at a dog show than a fit, well-bred Doberman.  And they’re thinking, working dogs.  Conservative, serious, and imposing-looking when they need to be.

Why I don’t have a real one:  Size, for one thing.  My house is not large, and my fence is only 4 feet tall, which would be iffy when it came to keeping a Doberman in the yard.  Laziness — these are dogs who need a lot of exercise and a lot of work.  And sometimes (okay, a lot of times), I just want to come home and watch vampires be sexy and pop off great lines.  A Doberman would be bored and frustrated with me, and a bored, frustrated Doberman is not something anyone needs to have.

The Collie

Why I have an imaginary one:  Like a lot of folks, I grew up watching Lassie on TV, and to this day, somewhere in my house, is the stuffed Lassie dog that I inherited as a kid.  Most of the fur is gone from the backing fabric, both glass eyes are missing, and there is little paint left on its plastic muzzle.  Smart, brave, beautiful, the Collie is the quintessential family dog.  And in the blue merle color?  Be still my heart!

Why I don’t have a real one:  Actually, I almost DID have half of a real one, a sable girl I was planning to co-own and show.  But I realized that I only have time and money to show one breed.  And Collies?  Are big.  Like, REALLY big.  I always forget how big they are until I’m next to them.  And all of that beautiful hair?  OMG, the grooming!!  I can trim feet like nobody’s business, but ears?  Uh-uh.  Did I mention the barking?  Oh, the barking!!!  Yes yes, my Cardis bark, but they have NOTHING on a Collie.  I wouldn’t have thought that such a high-pitched, annoying noise could come out of a dog that size.  I would have been wrong.

The Irish Setter

Why I have an imaginary one:  LOOK at that dog.  Look at it!  That athletic build, the to-die-for red color, the long silky ears…  A well-turned out Irish Setter in the ring can take my breath away.  And like the stereotypical Irishman, these animals like to party.  They carouse, they rough-house, their eyes sparkle to the brim with mischief and merriment.  How do you not laugh in the company of an Irish Setter?

Why I don’t have a real one:  Yeah, that mischief and merriment thing?  Does NOT come with an off-switch.  Sometimes you have to untap the keg and get serious and these guys?  Do not do serious.  They’re also not big fans of quiet or focus.  If it doesn’t involve birding, it’s all one big party.  I can’t live in the canine equivalent of an eternal frat party.  Especially not with dogs this size.

The Standard Poodle

Why I have an imaginary one:  Done up right, this is one stylish dog.  And I’m not talking about the ridiculousness that is perpetrated on them in the name of show-ring glory.  A nice, well-kept sporting clip is beautiful.  Stylish and striking, but serviceable all the same.  These guys are a ton of fun; I remember a black Standard Poodle, Elvis, who used to compete in obedience trials.  We never knew what Elvis was going to do, but we knew that, when he stepped into the obedience ring, we were about to be entertained.

Why I don’t have a real one:  Seriously, people, I have a hard enough time keeping myself groomed.  THIS coat?  And having to either perfect the trimming myself, or face exorbitant grooming fees every month?  Not for me.  Too big and athletic for my house and yard, this clown would wear a frown if it had to live with me.

The Icelandic Sheepdog

Why I have an imaginary one:  I can pretty much sum this one up by saying “OMG SO PRETTY!!!!!!!”  The fluffy coat, the rainbow of colors they come in, the bright eyes and small prick ears and the look like they’re always laughing, the manageable size…  this is one very attractive package.

Why I don’t have a real one:  I think the biggest reason is that these are still pretty rare and hard to come by.  And when and if I did get one, trying to find shows that had an entry would be a nightmare.  I’ve gotten remarkably spoiled with having available majors at most of the shows I attend with the Cardigans.  It must be hell trying to finish one of these guys.  Also, they are a spitz breed, and having lived with a Keeshond, I’m not sure the spitz temperament is all that compatible with me.  I like a dog to be “spirited,” but some of the spitz dogs take “feisty” to new heights.  And on a purely frivolous note, I detest the curled-over-the-back tails.  Let’s just say that it amply displays the dog’s least attractive feature, and leave it at that, ‘kay?

The Scottish Terrier

Why I have an imaginary one:  This one is sort of split between the “imaginary dog” and “possible future dog” categories.  I’ve been saying for the last twenty years that when I am a lonely, frail, crotchety old woman, I’m going to have a nasty little Scotty to sit on my lap and snap at anyone who even thinks about annoying me.

Why I don’t have a real one:  I am not yet a lonely, frail, old woman.  The “crotchety” part is open for debate.

And, My Absolute, Number One, Imaginary Heart-Dog:  The Borzoi

Why I have an imaginary one:  I’m not sure I can entirely put the appeal of these dogs into words.  The form that so completely follows function, the beautiful coat, the noble carriage, the royal heritage…  I don’t think there is ANY breed that appeals to me in the same way that the Borzoi does.  Even knowing all of the same things you’ve all heard about sighthounds and trainability (or lack of same), I want one down to the core of my being; I would be completely delighted and honored to have this dog do nothing but sneer elegantly down its nose at me 24/7.

Why I don’t have a real one:  My husband won’t let me.  Oh, okay!  It’s not that he specifically won’t let me have a Borzoi; it’s just that I only have so many available “dog slots” in my house before he just up and leaves, and if I’m going to breed and show Cardigans then I can’t very well give one of those coveted household positions to an elegant sneerer.  Plus, there are all of the same concerns with house and fence size as with the other large breeds, making a Borzoi completely and unequivocally impractical for me at the present time.

I can imagine it, though.  And who knows?  Maybe someday.

Someday.