AT July-Aug 2005

parking lot. I go to bed early and drive back
to the fairgrounds at dawn.
At ringside I tell myself the usual
things: relax, this is only a game; I'm here
to have a good time; nothing to worry about.
Wish I hadn't forgotten my Imodium. By
the time it's my turn I'm so nervous I can
hardly breathe.
But in spite of my tension, in spite of
my handler errors, Magic does well. She's
distracted as usual, but has enough focus to
earn her second UD leg. In fact, she's the
only one who passes UtilityA that day, and
therefore earns first place.
There are prizes for all who qualify. In
addition to her blue ribbon, Magic gets a
tennis ball, a lovely framed certificate, and a
squeaky toy. These gifts couldn't have cost
the club very much, but what a difference
they make! It feels good to be able to give
Magic a tangible reward for her efforts right
away, and to have a small reminder of a
very special day.
I'm thrilled, but it doesn't seem quite
right that we should be in first place. I
know that other dogs looked sharper,
sat straighter and more quickly, looked
up at their handler while heeling. Many
of the competitors—handlers as well as
dogs—presented a polished performance
while Magic and I justbumbled along. But
it's our day to shine, and I call Frank so he
can share my happiness. He says he'll get
a bottle of champagne to celebrate when
we get home. I think that no matter what
happens this afternoon or tomorrow, this
is a wonderful weekend, and I'm so glad I
came!
Rosie has her CD but isn't ready for
Open yet. I brought her along so she'll get
used to the sounds, smells, and excitement
of dog shows, and because I like her
company. She's a gentle, mellow dog,
not prone to chase ducks or squirrels. I've
entered her in Rally 1, about which I know
very little. From what I've read it sounds
like a more relaxed kind of competition
thanobedienceand I look forwardto giving
it a try.
As I walk past the numbered cones
of the rally ring and read what the dogs
are expected to do, I am confident that
Rosie can easily follow the instructions.
It's not Rosie I'll have to worry about, but
me. Some of the signs are confusing. The
judge, who is as helpful as anyone could
expect her to be, patiently explains the
various moves. I ask herto explain again .
In Other Words
.. and again. Until I'm too embarrassed to
tell her that I'm still confused.
When it's our turn I'm surprised how
quickly we get through the maze, and I
know that Rosie did well. I'm proud of
her, and hang around the ring to hear the
scores. There were dozens of contestants,
so hoping to place amongst the first four
seems unreasonable. Butsince I've decided
it's my lucky day, I'm optimistic.
Before handing out the ribbons, the
judge tells us how she's enjoyed all the
performances and what marvelous dogs
we have. I think about how lucky I am to
be here with this group of people who've
spent a day doing what we like best—life
doesn't get much better than that.
I'm now spending
what used to be
such a very special
day for me in a barn
where my children's
phone calls can't
reach me.
I'ma little disappointed that Rosie isn't
one ofthe four winners, but it doesn't spoil
my good mood. I look at her score sheet
to see how we did. What's this? Rosie
lost only two points? I knew she did well,
but that's fabulous! Then why didn't we
place? Oh—no—40 points were lost due to
handler error! Two for Rosie, 40 for me! I
had better read the rally guidelines before
subjecting my poor dog to all my mistakes
again. I stroke Rosie's face and promise
to buy her a squeaky toy as a reward for
putting up with me.
The club has done all it can to make
their show as enjoyable as possible.
Officials are dressed in aloha attire, and
the evening meal is a luau with plenty of
good food. Club members are helpful and
friendly, and the event is well organized
and runs smoothly. A good time is had by
everyone —regardless of who qualified and
who didn't.
The next day is Sunday. Several hours
pass before I remember that it's Mother's
Day. I reflecton how my life has changed
over the last two decades. After raising a
verylargefamily andthentakingcareofmy
own mother. Mother's Day seems to have
lost its meaning—or at least the intensity
of feelings it used to arouse. My mother is
dead now, and my children live all over the
globe: one in Paris; one in Las Vegas; one
in LA; and six in Hawaii. I'm now spending
what used to be such a very special day for
me in a bam where my children's phone
calls can't reach me. What an impossible
thought that would have been for me not so
very long ago. The startling thing about it
is that I am happy, that I wish for nothing
I don't already have. It's a good way to
feel.
Magic lives up to her name today. She
is magical. She's earns her Utility title at
the age of 23 months. Again, I saw that
other dogs were better, but Magic earns
first place and I'm so proud of her I could
burst. Friends and folks I didn't know were
friends come over to congratulate me, it
feels like a party. I'm urged to have our
picture taken—getting a UD is worthy of
a photograph. I decline. I'm out of wall
space, I've never liked the way I look on
photos, and I have morepictures ofmy dogs
than I know what to do with. And I don't
want to spend the money.
I'm sitting ringside watching the rest
of the trials when a club official comes to
talk to me. "Heidi, our club is paying for
a photograph of anyone who gets their
UD today. Go get your dog and have your
picture taken, we'll take care of the cost."
I can't believe it. I know there was no
such prize. These sweet people thought I
couldn't afford to pay and pooled their
money to help me out. I'm touched
beyond words. What a lovely Mother's
Day present! All the best people must live
right here in Southem Oregon.
"Thank you so much, everybody, but
you misunderstand. I'm not poor, I'm just
cheap. I can't take your money. But thank
you."
I have my picture taken with Magic,
and I'mglad I did. We're both wearing leis,
we display our loot—which now includes
a giant pillow with a dog motif, and the
judge, the handler, and the dog all smile.
A day to remember. Mother's Day 2004.
AUSSIE TIMES I July-August 2005 117