The bowling of dog sports

Gabby and I play a dog sport called Flyball. It's a team-relay sport with 4 dogs. The first dog runs over a start line, jumps over four hurdles, jumps on a box that spits out ball, the dog catches the ball, turns around, runs back over the 4 hurdles, and over the finish line. The next dog does the same thing and the next dog and the next dog. You race against another team of 4 dogs and the first team to have all 4 dogs complete the relay properly wins.

This is a very noisy and crazy sport. It's perfect for a noisy and crazy dog.

I actually got Gabby because I was interested in flyball. Once I adopted her, I was offered free flyball classes from the woman that ran the rescue. There was one problem - Gabby lost her mind at the sight of any other dog. Considering that she would be on a team with 3 other dogs and competing against 4 other dogs, this is not good. Gabby was never really aggressive, though she did get in fights. But I'd probably start something with someone that came running up to me at top speed screaming at the top of their lungs. I could never blame any dog for want to shut Gabby up.

When we first started classes, I would be the only student. I actually showed up after the open practice that the woman teaching us had. Gabby was a very quick study and had no problems learning a proper box turn or how to return to me. She just would completely lose all resemblence of sanity if another dog appeared. She would bark non-stop and caused herself to foam at the mouth. She could be distracted by nothing. Treats, no matter how smelly and tempting, where no match for barking mercilessly at another dog.

Then came the spray bottle.

I was taking her to obedience class at the same time we started Flyball. I'd talked to the obedience trainer before beginning class and told her the problem. She recommended a head halter. When it was on, Gabby could think of nothing else other than getting it off unless, of course, there was another dog around. Then the barking, and pulling, and foaming started.

This is how we entered our first obedience class. Gabby jumps out of the car and sees a dog in the parking lot. She begins her lunatic barking. I struggle to put her head halter on during this episode and managed to put my hand in her mouth during a bark and get bit. After recovering from that, I get the head halter on backwards. While trying to fix it, another dog shows up. At this point I want to cry and go home defeated. But I figured this wasn't over until I was kicked out of obedience class, which I was 100% certain would happen. At that point I'd be totally justified in giving up on this dog. So I walk in with the lunatic pulling and barking as best she could in a head halter. The trainer walks over to us and I'm certain that I'm being asked to exit. Instead, she pulls out a spray bottle, and squirts Gabby while saying "NO!" It worked... Like it seriously worked... I sat there stunned.

I was allowed to attend the open flyball practice with the other dogs after that.

I love spray bottles.

How to deal with crazy.

Gabby is a crazy dog. Not in the Marley and Me sense - I would consider that simply goofy. She's crazy in the skate boarder "I just want to move as much as possible, make as much noise as possible and have no regard for my own safety in any situation" type of way.

The first thing I noticed was that Gabby loves to bark, particularly in any situation she finds exciting. The problem is that she finds most situations exciting. Again, it comes with her general love of life.

When I first got her, it didn't matter where we went, she barked. She barked at the dog park, she barked at obedience class, she barked at flyball, but she had a particular love of barking at the petstore. I'm well aware that hearing a few barks in a petstore is not uncommon. But Gabby has the high pitched bark of a dog half her size and used it twice as much at the petstore.

One day I was at Petco attempting rather pathetically to use a clicker to teach her to shut up. At that point my clicker skills and understanding were rather dismal and as expected, the results were matching my skill. I'd had a few people give me looks, and I was beginning to panic. Gabby picked up on this and began to bark worse. She's yet to understand that panic and excitement are not the same things. I tried to make a dash for the door, but to exit the place requires following a maze of cash registers and cat furniture that would make the smartest lab rat weep. And to make the situation worse there's always a dog waiting in the line of cash registers with it's owner. I decided to wait out the dog and hope that it would exit quickly so I could follow.

Didn't happen.

As I stood there attempting to hold my dog's mouth shut so the barking wouldn't be ear-piercing, an employee very politely suggested that maybe the store was too over-stimulating for my dog. Thank you Captan Obvious. How 'bout you remove some of the barriers to exiting your establishment so that I don't have to hurdle a dog or perform feline-esque mauneuvers to get through your cat furniture?

Oh how I wish I'd had the strength and stability of mind to say that to the employee, but the disappointment that my dog had just been thrown out of a petstore overwhelmed me. I picked up my 27 lb, over-excited, yappy dog and pushed my way through cat furniture while her back legs found a brace on my hip and proceeded to claw my pants down. I actually felt rather vindicated mooning Petco.

Let's just say that I now prefer Petsmart. Not because we haven't be kicked out of there, (yes, my dog has been kicked out of 2 petstores for barking) but because they have a rather clear exit. You still may face another dog at the door, but because they are walking into the building, they tend to keep walking straight ahead and knowing where the distraction is headed, makes them easier to avoid.

Welcome home Gabrielle Louise

Gabby is my Austrialian Shepherd and has been my faithful sidekick since she allowed me to adopt her on December 1st 2007. My husband and I were only going to go look at her that evening. I'd wanted a Border Collie, but was finding working with rescues a bit difficult. Our yard had a raggedy, old fence along the back that a dog could easily escape through, but we had plans to replace that section of the fence come the spring. I'd made the mistake of saying that I was planning on tying my dog out for potty time during the coming winter. I didn't realize that in the mind of rescuers, that would lead to me neglecting my dog.

Luckily I'd been in contact with a guy that participated in Flyball. He checked the available dogs on an Aussie rescue site that was managed by a woman who also participated in Flyball. I clicked the link in his email and saw a scrawny, little, blue merle Aussie named Suzy. She looked Border Collie-ish so maybe she'd work. But she didn't have a tail. To me tails always seemed like an essential reason to have dog. We decided to go check her out anyway.

I'd already been approved for adoption when we went to meet Suzy. I knew by that time to say that my dog would be walked on a leash for potty breaks. She was so cute that night. Nine months old and just excited to be alive each moment. Thinking back to that night, one word always comes to mind: energy. This crazy, little Aussie loved everyone and everything and with her boundless energy she made the world aware of that fact. There was no way we wouldn't take this dog home with us.

I always knew that my first female dog would be named Gabrielle. I'm Xena, and therefore it only made sense. I was hoping that I could call her Bri (pronounced Bree), as I didn't particularly like Gabby and found Gabrielle too long. However, our lack of supplies that evening forced us to stop at a pet store, and it was apparent that Gabby was the only fitting name. She immediately went after a Border Collie as we stepped through the door and then continued to bark until my husband took her to the car. As I hurriedly finished shopping, I could still hear her outside. I suppose I should have known that such a high energy dog would need a release valve for the moments she was even more reved up. I still think there is no way I could have expected an Aussie to have the high pitch bark of a dog a third her size.

It is 4 years later and the word 'energy' still is foremost in my mind when describing Gabby. There is no greater reward for her than to simply run. It doesn't matter if it's during Flyball, or chasing a deer, or simply running in circles. As long as she's running, nothing else matters.