Hello again .... we have ribbons! — The Agility Chronicles

I've missed you. And, I've missed this. The writing. The telling of "our" story. The sharing of our joys as well as our sorrows. And, this year has been full of highs, lows, and everything in between.

Amidst an exploding law practice, we made the decision to put our clothing line on hiatus. Simply put, something HAD to give. I am and continue to be a hamster in a wheel, where most of my waking hours have been occupied -- or rather, hijacked -- by lawyering. In those hours where my brain cannot stand one more legal thought (and even then those thoughts never really relent), I'm spending time with Jen and my favorite boys. As we learned the hard way with Buffy and Dylan: one day you wake up and find their muzzles a little grayer, their movements a little slower, their trips to the vet a little more frequent, and their days a little shorter. Going into a lifetime of adventures with our furry companions, we know these things. We accept these harsh truths with selective memories, and inherently we know that time is fleeting. So, we prioritize. And, my priorities right now outside of career are two little guys who go by the names of Henry and Gus.

I've been re-reading these Chronicles. I've been smiling at the fond memories awakened through these words. Feeling inspired, I clicked the words "New Post." So, here I am.

What a year it's been. We've made new friendships, solidified others, and lost some, too. Life can be cruel that way. We've shared joys, and we've shared sorrows. It seems, however, that the one thing uniting our little corner of the world in this roller coaster called life are the little furry beings we call family. And those furry beings seem to love the game of agility.

We've had many reasons to smile this year.

When we last "spoke" through this blog, we were wishing our friends and "family" well at Westminster -- while at the same time, Jen and I were still learning not to face plant while sequencing an obstacle or five together. Gus learned the full teeter and dog walk, then he decided he didn't like them anymore. Fear of heights? Henry was very much the opposite. A-Frame, dog walk, teeter and he'd tackle them with enthusiasm. It was the jumps. One knocked bar, and he decided he was completely over them.

Trials (neither the legal kind, nor the competitive agility events). Tribulations. We'd have them both. On some days after Henry's pre-novice class, when I couldn't get him to do anything but stand in front of a jump and stare at me as if I were crazy, seemingly saying "Not today, Mom," I'd leave class feeling utterly defeated. Left wondering whether the words "agility" and "Henry" would ever marry. You see, I wasn't going to push him to do anything that wasn't making him happy. His happiness is everything to me. At the same time, Gus would excel in tunnels and jumps. Built for speed, agility made him happy and he just wanted to run.

I was floundering, Henry was reluctant, Gus wanted to run, and Jen was happy to oblige him. And we held true to our pact: when the fun stops, we stop. One night over the summer, Jen was taking Gus to class, and I had the wild hair to play with Henry in the back yard. Only "play" also meant pulling out an agility jump to see what we could do. And, this game worked. Our playtime with treats and running and jumps -- not in a class environment -- did wonders for our little boy's mindset (See what I did there, Diane?). Was I seeing what I thought I was seeing? Was he REALLY having fun? By the smile on his face, it was clear he was enjoying himself.

Play happened again, and again, and again. Those summer nights (tell me more, tell me more) we played in the yard with a conveniently placed agility jump, and Henry loved our game. So much so, that on no particular day and for no particular reason, he became a different Henry in class -- a little more confident, dressed in a permagrin.

Because he was telling me he loved this game, we continued with our lessons, and we improved with each class. Sure, we'd have our setbacks from time to time, but two things were clear: we were growing together, and he was still happy.

Henry's newfound confidence and Gus' acquired skillset led us to contemplate our first agility trial. Because the little black ninja tri-colored guy is sensitive to people and environment, we decided to set him up for success. Our first venture would be the AKC Agility Course Test (ACT) at our familiar training center Thanksgiving weekend. We enrolled both boys in ACT 1 (jumps, tunnels and the A-Frame), and Henry in ACT 2 (ACT 1 + weave poles and teeter). We practiced. We planned. And, we waited until November 25, 2017 arrived.

Unfortunately, Gus came down with a green, goopy eye infection that required us to pull him from the trial (which, in retrospect, was probably a good thing because Gus doesn't have the same sensitivity issues as Henry). Perhaps this little infection was Gus' intentional way of letting his brother have the limelight...because this turned out to be Henry's day.

Waiting at our makeshift campsite, my heart was pounding; my stomach envisioned departing my body. I reviewed the course map with Jen for what seemed like a million times. I'm not sure why I was nervous, but I was. It was our first run, ever. I had no idea what would happen. Henry's first time in a ring, with a judge and ring crew in the form of a child, presented new challenges for him. These challenges, however, proved not to be challenges at all. Finally, it was his turn to shine.

And, then we walked to the line. Sometimes you don't realize when something incredible is happening. And sometimes, you have no idea that for a nanosecond you caught lightening in a bottle. But in that moment, we had magic. Magic he repeated 3 more times. Were we perfect? No, but in my mind, we were. In his mind, he was brilliant - because we told him so.

Incidentally, we came home with ribbons.