Two days to go.
Two days of stomach churning nerves, two days of waiting, then it will all be over, Alf's first ever final, the one I have wanted to qualify for since I first heard it existed, the rescue league.
Apprehension. Excitement. It's all bubbling away in there, counting down to Sunday.
The steps to get here have each felt so huge. Every round, every rosette, I have treasured every single one. Every time I remind myself how far he has come. I remember the pride and emotion of submitting his first ever points onto the league website, for his first ever clear rounds last March, then places in April. His first ever trophy in May - and his second the same day.
Then realising he was creeping towards the top of the table. Daring to dream he might be good enough for the finals. Wondering if the points would be enough, as the year drew to a close and other dogs still had shows in October and November, while we had none. But he did it, he finished in the top 20. I thought I might burst.
In February, it came, an invitation to the finals. Thud. Suddenly it felt it might be real.
I had to write a commentary. Wierd feeling, surely that is what people with top grade 7 dogs do for Olympia and Crufts, not little me in grade 1 with her strange hairy lurcher boy. I could have written so much about him, I can't even express what he has put me through at times, but he is amazing, and I love the bones of him. How could I tell his whole story in 35 seconds?
There is the worry of an unfamiliar venue, what will the layout be like, where will the parking be, and what if we get lost on the way there? I know my stomach will be full of monsters, never mind butterflies - and where are the loos? Hopefully walking the course will calm me down a bit, once I see what we have to do, and once I know we can tackle it.
But I still know my legs will turn to jelly as I walk to the ring. I know I will have to remind myself to breathe. I'm getting stomach flips just thinking about it now.
I hope that once I am on that line, I will think only of Alf and the course, I really need to find our bubble, more that ever, this run needs to be about me and him and nothing else.
I know it has been said before, but the hard work was getting there. Everyone keeps telling me to enjoy it, enjoy my dog, he has earned it, we have done it together, as a team. It is not about winning this final, it is about being there. So I promise I will try to relax enough to enjoy it, I will try not to let the nerves spoil the experience - he tries so hard for me it's the least I owe him.
Two days.... and counting.
Two days of stomach churning nerves, two days of waiting, then it will all be over, Alf's first ever final, the one I have wanted to qualify for since I first heard it existed, the rescue league.
Apprehension. Excitement. It's all bubbling away in there, counting down to Sunday.
The steps to get here have each felt so huge. Every round, every rosette, I have treasured every single one. Every time I remind myself how far he has come. I remember the pride and emotion of submitting his first ever points onto the league website, for his first ever clear rounds last March, then places in April. His first ever trophy in May - and his second the same day.
Then realising he was creeping towards the top of the table. Daring to dream he might be good enough for the finals. Wondering if the points would be enough, as the year drew to a close and other dogs still had shows in October and November, while we had none. But he did it, he finished in the top 20. I thought I might burst.
In February, it came, an invitation to the finals. Thud. Suddenly it felt it might be real.
I had to write a commentary. Wierd feeling, surely that is what people with top grade 7 dogs do for Olympia and Crufts, not little me in grade 1 with her strange hairy lurcher boy. I could have written so much about him, I can't even express what he has put me through at times, but he is amazing, and I love the bones of him. How could I tell his whole story in 35 seconds?
There is the worry of an unfamiliar venue, what will the layout be like, where will the parking be, and what if we get lost on the way there? I know my stomach will be full of monsters, never mind butterflies - and where are the loos? Hopefully walking the course will calm me down a bit, once I see what we have to do, and once I know we can tackle it.
But I still know my legs will turn to jelly as I walk to the ring. I know I will have to remind myself to breathe. I'm getting stomach flips just thinking about it now.
I hope that once I am on that line, I will think only of Alf and the course, I really need to find our bubble, more that ever, this run needs to be about me and him and nothing else.
I know it has been said before, but the hard work was getting there. Everyone keeps telling me to enjoy it, enjoy my dog, he has earned it, we have done it together, as a team. It is not about winning this final, it is about being there. So I promise I will try to relax enough to enjoy it, I will try not to let the nerves spoil the experience - he tries so hard for me it's the least I owe him.
Two days.... and counting.
