Coba's first show

As of this weekend, Coba is officially a show dog and I'm a show dog handler. A bad one, maybe, or, ok, maybe just a lot green, but we did it and we had fun. Our run in obedience actually wasn't that bad, and Kyn took video so you can all see it. My about turns were too wide and Coba's finishes are sloppy, but these would have probably been qualifying performances had Coba not stood up during the sit-stay (Saturday) and lay down (Sunday). Still, something to work on. Coba had fun (you can see him having a little too much fun bouncing in the first vid) and that is the important part.

In conformation, I just need to learn to handle better before we're even a tiny bit competitive. I got some gentle but useful advice after my first attempt from a very kind lady who turned out later to be the best in show judge being nice to the newbie, (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) so that makes a story.

It was fun. Maybe next time, we will win something. I see the whole enterprise with a great deal of humor and appreciation for its inherent silliness, but somehow that doesn't keep me from being utterly terrified when I'm doing it---which may have more to do with why I am doing it than I originally realized. Regardless, I have a sweet, extremely devoted and very pretty little showdog who likes this, and that's the important thing.

( Fun pics by my dog show accomplice, Kyn )

Quality of Light

Great egret standing at the far side of the reservoir
at the end of summer
and the light is just so:
to limn reeds and water and the bird's
white, loose feathers
with shimmering gold.

The egret lifts; our dogs are playing.
I wish him farewell in time for him to light
in a fir tree not far from us
and preen.
Casual in his loveliness, this gilded
limber-necked, sharp-faced, slightly awkward bird.

In summer, California's hills are loose, tawny shoulders;
here, the bluffs on the ridges are silver and windswept,
sun and still, lightbound.
And yesterday, at a dog show,
transcending all its human ordinariness
for just this moment,
two blond saluki lope in halos poured them by the rising sun.

We work through these long summers of day
that we might survive the coming cold, we beasts.
Survive the cold, the dying and the birthing times
to win the privilege of doing it again.
And why?
Every year grows harder; every season takes its toll
takes a little piece of what we were.
And still, we do it---
For the quality of light
flashing through a kite's wings as she stoops
on an August morning.