Passengers

I have found people often express surprise that out of the five or six dogs in our van only a couple actually compete - what are they all for, if they do not all compete?  After all, if our hobby is agility, surely we only need agility dogs?

If we didn't have so many non-agility passengers we wouldn't need a van, we could drive a normal car like normal people.  But is it really the agility that is the reason we have six dogs?  Are we, in fact, normal?

None of our dogs are acquired just for agility.  I walk, feed, brush, talk to, stroke, laugh at, play with all of my dogs multiple times during the week for every tiny bit of agility I do with my "agility dogs".  If I didn't like living with multiple dogs it wouldn't make any difference how much I enjoyed agility, I wouldn't have dogs I didn't want just for a few minutes of agility each week

I have also been told we should have normal holidays, that don't involve agility, or even that don't involve the dogs.  Wierd idea.

Camping at a show is like a little mini-holiday with my dogs.  No tv, no computer, we spend a lot of time sat around together in the caravan or garden.  We also do lovely long walks in new places and meet lots of friends and their dogs - things the passengers enjoy just as much as the competing dogs.

The retired dogs are the history, teachers, happy memories, companions and comfort.

The youngsters are the future, hopes, the potential of good things to come, challenges and entertainment. 

The passengers are the oldies that are retired, the injured, the youngsters in training, the puppy.  They may be past agility dogs or future agility dogs, or just not suitable for agility dogs, but they are still my dogs.  

Mum?

What are you to your dog?

It seems many otherwise apparently rational people are defining themselves as "mum" in this dog-human relationship. Can we just think about that for a second?

I am not a parent. Nor am I a "dog parent". I have utmost respect for those who are parents, and I would never presume to compare the responsibility of owning a dog with the responsibility of having a child. I would never say the relationship I have with one of my dogs is comparable to the relationship between me and my parents - I think that concept is fairly insulting whichever way you look at it.

Any parent who routinely left their child home alone for several hours, put a tag on their neck in case they got lost, refused to let them on furniture, hosed them off after running naked in the mud, fed them off the floor, and made them travel in cages in the car would have some pretty serious questions to answer.

I confess I cringe when I hear trainers say "go to mummy" or "listen to your dad". The other day someone told me my training advice was not relevant as my lifestyle was "different to Benji's mum". Well I should darn well hope so, as Benji's mum was a dog.

I am not my dogs' mother, I did not give birth to them and I do not expect them to grow up to carry on the family name or organise family birthday parties. I do not expect them go to university, vote, get jobs or National Insurance numbers. They are dogs. I expect them to act like dogs, look like dogs, think like dogs, play like dogs, sound and smell like dogs. Do I even need to start listing the ways your children should not act, look, think, play, sound or smell like dogs?

So what am I? What are my dogs to me?

Legally I am an owner. My dogs are possessions, chattels; I can sell, give or will them to whoever I choose. Legally I am responsible for their behaviour, and I am not permitted to let them out alone - does that make me their keeper?

Legally and morally I am also responsible for their welfare and wellbeing - a concept that cannot be applied to your car, even if you give it a name and insist it has a personality.

Dogs are capable of their own thoughts, feelings and decisions, and capable of responding to my emotions. Ethically I could never view something that interacts in a two way relationship as merely a possession. They know if I am happy, sad, disappointed, tired, excited, nervous, and in turn their emotions can influence mine. I let them run free, and they choose to return home with me, they like being with me, they feel safe with me.

I am not a pack leader, as my dogs are not a pack, but I must be some kind of a leader. I control access to resources - the freezer, walks, toys. I decide where and when we walk or play, when and what we eat, and what we watch on TV. But I am a benevolent leader, I think; I certainly aim to respect my dogs' preferences and feelings wherever possible. I aim for them to trust me and to cooperate without force, I negotiate not dictate.

I am also a playmate. Long before we get anywhere near agility my dogs play with me. We invent our own rules, each dog plays differently, they have their own quirks, but so do I, they learn to share toys, they learn there are boundaries, and I love to see them having fun.

In agility, well that is just another game, but when it goes well, we are a team. The level of communication in getting a dog accurately around a tricky course at full speed is an amazing feeling, it does not happen overnight, and it certainly doesn't happen every time I step into the ring.

What else is my relationship with my dogs? I hope, most of all, a friend. When Alf leans on my legs and tips his head back to gaze at me, when Basil curls up in the non-existent gap between me and the chair arm just to be close, I think it is because they love me, and they know I love them.

My dogs, my friends.