The Variocage Saga, Part I.
It has been a long time coming, this blog post.
You see, the world of agility has -- sorta -- enveloped us. Henry, Gus, Jen and I have been welcomed into this sphere by some good people who, frankly, know a lot more about dog sports than we do. Of course, we're eager students, but it only took a trip to Connecticut in October of 2016 followed by a trip to Springfield, Missouri at Thanksgiving for us to realize we still had much to learn...not only about the sport of agility, itself, but also about keeping our furry four-legged companions safe and comfortable as we travel from here to there and there to here for vacations and eventually, maybe, competitions.
We'd first realized we'd been lacking in the transportation department when visiting friends at an agility trial in Connecticut. As we pulled into the parking lot, we'd noticed many SUV's and minivans - back hatches open, adorned with sunscreens and portable fans, while their occupant dogs chillaxed comfortably in crates when not actually involved in competition. Quickly, we realized that Henry and Gus, left with free reign in our Audi, could, if they had opposable thumbs and their respective drivers' licenses, put the car in drive and go somewhere on their own leaving us to wonder what became of them. Maybe I've had a mental block about leaving dogs in cars, but at a dog sports event, giving them their own safe and cozy space is practically a necessity (temperature controlled, of course). In all seriousness, too much could go wrong when dogs are left alone in a car without appropriate precautions being taken.
"You need to learn to be dog show people," a wise Yoda-like friend had said.
Flash forward to Thanksgiving. While visiting family in Missouri, we took the opportunity to connect with a friend we'd only known from Facebook. She drove from Tulsa; we drove from Poplar Bluff and we (and our Shelties) met up in Springfield. Again, we piled into our Audi, Henry insistent that he sleep in the passenger's lap, while Gus situated himself comfortably in the back. Regardless, in the event of an accident, I was well aware that disaster could happen. Puppies can become projectiles as was drilled into our heads in puppy class. (We do have Sleepypod seatbelt harnesses which we use routinely; however, there is much much protest from Henry and Gus).
Our friend's Honda Pilot SUV was outfitted with a Variocage (double medium), which was amazingly sturdy and designed to keep the dogs safe. Extra air was provided to her shelties through a noggle attached to a back seat vent. Not only were the Oklahoma Shelties traveling in style in their own snug little space, they were also protected in the event of a car accident.
The Variocage is impressive. And, well, venturing into this dog sport world, I decided that it was time that we stopped having a crate-less car. Eagerly and enthusiastically, I went to the Variocage website, put the make and model of my car into the Variocage selector and voila!: by the website, the compact large Variocage would fit the Audi and its dimensions would be adequate for small Shelties. Cue the Black Friday sale from Mighty Mite Dog Gear, and we'd ordered our first car crate.
Variocage is made by MIM, which is a Swedish company. This means, when you open the box and find the instructions, you are made painfully aware that they're incomprehensible. Hello? English? Flappen Schlappen Bippity Boppity Do? If anyone has shopped at Ikea, you know what I'm getting at here: language is NOT necessary. Instructions aren't instructions but cryptic hieroglyphics meant to confuse even the smartest of us. Envision yourself turning the page in several different directions, looking at the plethora of pieces scattered on the floor in front of you, turning the page again, scratching your head, then in an act of resignation, going to the kitchen for a glass of wine. Only after the glass (or three) of wine do these instructions sorta kinda make sense.
Huh?
Which then made me think of this:
Once you transport yourself back to ancient Egypt (and/or after you've consumed enough adult beverages), you are finally able to make sense of these instructions. Little did you know that assembling a Variocage was a test of physical strength!
You MUST be strong! Or, maybe a burly man?....if my biceps don't look like that, will the Variocage remain unassembled on my living room floor?
"Are you sure you know what you're doing, Mama?"
After many hours (and many expletives), FINALLY, I was able to assemble the crate. Uber proud of myself, I was. I carried it to the garage, popped the hatch on the Audi, installed the crate(even in its smallest setting), and smiled. Yay! We're dog show people now! I even added a Sheltie or two to make sure their new "digs" suited them.
"I don't think I like this....," says Henry.
Then, I went to close the Audi's hatch. In the blink of an eye...in a nanosecond...my dreams shattered like the back window certainly would've. My hopes of having a Variocage in that car were dashed instantaneously. Lowering the hatch....ever so slightly...down, down, down...and bonk. The back window met resistance at the top of the cage. Sure, I suppose the crate could actually fit in the car if, like a packed suitcase, I jumped on the hatch slamming it down. If I didn't care about breaking the car's back window. Despite my best efforts, and despite the manufacturer's own website, that Variocage was not going to fit in a Q3 with an unbroken back window. Nope, Nada. Ain't happening.
Sheepishly, I called Mighty Mite and spoke with Rena, who is AWESOME and excels in the art of customer service (We HIGHLY RECOMMEND Mighty Mite!). I explained to her my problem and she said: "Yep, Audi and Variocage don't get along." Well, obviously. "Audis have round butts," said Rena, "Variocage and round butts don't play nicely together. Variocage works better with cars that have square butts." Wait, were we talking about cars, or...erm? My Audi has a wha??? Oh how the mind goes to places....like dance clubs of yesteryear and songs which stick with you even though they shouldn't...and to times when when I had bleached blonde hair...oh nevermind.
*cough*
Yes, I'm okay with the restocking fee. Yes, I'd like to exchange the darned thing. What kind of car? What size cage?
I lied. "Yes, we have a Ford Explorer." Sidebar: in my dreams. "Perfect! (because it has a square butt) Yay! Those play nice with Variocage! Great, I'll take the double medium."
And just like that...we weren't only getting a new Variocage, we were also trading in Jen's 2008 Honda Fit.....
I disassembled the Variocage, ensured that it was packed in pristine fashion, tripped down the stairs carrying its box, and rolled my ankle not in stuntwoman fashion prompting a trip to urgent care (nothing was broken, but it's still bothering me). Then I sent the darned thing back to Mighty Mite. In the meantime, I also called a client with car-dealer connections...
Our lives have gone to the dogs.
To be continued.....
