The pool boy metaphor

Let's say there's this kid, a teenager we'll call JC. Now JC has a great cushy life; he doesn't have to work, parents pay for everything, fridge is always stocked, he's got an Xbox and tons of friends to hang out with.

Once a week, mom tells JC he's got to clean the pool. Really, it's the only thing he's asked to do and truthfully, it's not that monumental a task because the pool isn't even that large. JC doesn't mind cleaning the pool, after all he likes using it and he's been 'in charge' of the pool since he was younger. Plus, skimming leaves off the water is kind of fun.




Just recently though, mom says he's slacking on pool duties. Sure there's nothing floating in the water, but the filter is clogged and the chlorine is unbalanced. It seems like every time she wants to use the pool, the heater isn't set properly.
She's nagging, blah blah blah, and he's responding with 'yeah yeah yeah' and nothing is getting done right because in the end, it just doesn't matter. Mom can screech all she wants and JC is still gonna get to play in the pool.


Ok this time, let's say that JC and his mom live a less luxurious lifestyle without the ipods and the internet or even a nice big bed for the entire family to cuddle in. There's still enough food to eat, and lots of affection but no couch to sit on or TV to watch all day. JC's bored and just waiting for something to do. The most important thing in his life is that pool.




Now mom tells him that she has a job for him. He'll have to clean the pool properly and only if he can do that(even cleaning out the nitty gritty stuff like the filter), he'll earn total user privileges.

Think he'll deliver to the best of his pool cleaning abilities? I'm counting on it because it's going to be a very long 48 hour experiment until we get to take another dip in that grimy pool.

Believe

So the 2010 Vancouver Olympics are over.



For 17 awesome days, Canada united as a country and believed. We kind of had to, brainwashed by the media into listening to that song over and over again.

There were so many firsts for Canadians in this Olympics. First gold on home soil, first ice dance gold, first ski cross gold, first time we heard O Canada officially played 14 times and unofficially sang hundreds more.

And there was a first for me too. For the first time in my life I fully grasped the emotions that these athletes go through during the course of competition. Ok, hardly on the same scale of world grandeur, but somewhat comparable on a personal level.

Take what happened to Cheryl Bernard. During the very last moments of the gold medal game in Women's Curling, she missed a shot that every single Canadian knew she could have made in her sleep. A shot she has made a thousand times before.



"Pretty routine double," Bernard said. "Rubbed it, missed it by a millimeter. Couldn't ask for an easier shot."


Bernard runs out of magic



While the rest of the country sat in disbelief at what they had just witnessed, I thought, 'I know how that feels'. Then I realized, wait a second, I do know how that feels. Lola and I, in the past, have run a flawless jumpers course only to have her dash right by the very last obstacle; the tire, hoop, that horrible burning ring of fire, which is how I saw it that day.
Yup, we know what's like to be in second place when you wanted that gold so badly. But we also know what's it like to have friends and family rally around you and declare what a great run that was, point out your exceptional footwork, and say you'll get it next time.

I have to believe that Canadians will rally around Cheryl Bernard, declare what a great tournament that was, point out all those stones she amazingly curled, and say you'll get it next time.

Must Kill Squeak

Tonight I discovered how to melt my Border Collie's mind.

Lola and I are trialing this weekend and were working on equipment during practice tonight . For the past couple of weeks we've been working on handling skills, which is great for me, but usually right before a trial I like to work her on the dogwalk, the weaves, the table, and a few jumps just to see where she's at mentally and get in some last minute tweaks if I can.
Our normal equipment routine consists of using treats and a tug toy, both of which make her very happy. Tonight in the smelly dirty unheated barn, her tug toy got especially gross with dirt and her enthusiasm for grabbing it as a prize waned with each supposed reinforcing toss.
I needed to borrow a toy from Andrea. I hated to ask but the trial is only four days away and practicing with an undesirable tug toy would not do! I grabbed Phoenix's squeaky bowling pin* and proceeding to work the dogwalk with Lola.

*


I blew her mind with the very first squeak.

Her eyes bugged out of her head, her tail shot straight up as if propelled by an electric current and she bounced of the ground like it was covered with hot coals. MUST KILL SQUEAK! I sent her to the dog walk and she flew over it with little regard to her safety and her contacts.
MUST KILL SQUEAK! What was this madness?

Let me explain my astonishment. Normally I have an easygoing albeit excited, happy to play dog. She's motivated to weave well enough by toys and has lovely 2 on 2 off contacts for the right treats. I react smugly when my agility friends speak of spastic Border Collies and think to myself that I must be a good trainer since my dog is problem free. Sure there are mistakes here and there, but her demeanor remains relatively calm throughout class and we can work through the kinks easily enough.

MUST KILL SQUEAK! With those 3 words, Lola officially joined the ranks of super spazz. She jumped on me, she leapt for the toy, she raced through a tunnel, she parachuted off of the dogwalk, and this was all while I was trying to get her to sit. That toy definitely breathed new life into our training session. MUST KILL SQUEAK! My sense of accomplishment when she did effectively perform what was asked of her was matched only by her sense of satisfaction at being rewarded with the chance to kill the squeak toy.

Practice was so much fun and so productive that I'm going out today to invest in one of these:




THE BALL WITH FEET IS GOING TO BLOW HER MIND.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

They'll work it out

What does that even mean??

No, no they won't, is what I should have said. Unless by working it out you mean that your dog will continue being a bully and my dog will continue being scared. Because unless either one of us steps in, that is what will happen.


We're at the neighborhood park, not the dog park, but our dogs are loose and they all know each other and Lola is just at that threshold where she won't be able to tolerate any more dogs especially ones she doesn't know. Sure enough, a couple I've never met before show up with their two big black Lab crosses and let them off leash to play. One runs over to where all the boys are running (you've already guessed that's where JC is, right?) and plays nice, the other charges towards our group, hackles up and full of loud noises. Oh don't worry, we're told, she's just all noise.

Of course that just means to me that these people have no understanding of how animals communicate. either that, or they've chosen to believe that a dog with an obnoxious personality is perfectly acceptable in a social situation.

It isn't.

That dog zoomed in on Lola immediately and proceeded to torment her, invading her personal space, growling and posturering.

My dog is timid. She doesn't like that, I said. I was being polite because they are neighbors and I also kind of expected them to contain their dog.
Oh, she won't do anything, I was told.
Yeah, but my dog might snap at her, I said, a little more forcibly this time and actually readying myself to step in because Lola was very agitated.

And then the lady said it. They'll work it out.

She didn't say, oh I'm sorry, let me get my dog. She certainly didn't say, hey dog, stop that!
I would have ok with either of those responses, more than ok, I would have been impressed.

They'll work it out.

Her husband called the dog off and kept a firm grip on it after that. I guess he has some understanding of how women communicate and he correctly picked up on all my signals.

The Dog Park

A pictorial essay as seen through eyes of JC:

And now, Lola's experience. The same day.