The long and winding aaarrff

Posted on April 11, 2010 by Paul

There’s no way anybody should have to get up at 6am on a Sunday, but that’s what we did today to get over to Glentress Forest in time for our first ever Cani-X race. Once there and signed in, the race organizers disclosed a couple of things about the race we hadn’t really being expecting. Firstly it would be 5.8 km long rather than the advertised 5 km (so really 6km with a small discount) and secondly, a lot of it was uphill over rough terrain.

Now I had been planning to run with both Beanie and Biggles (and with all that climbing ahead I definitely fancied the idea of having double Beagle power out in front of me) but after hearing the course description we decided it would be better to pull Beanie out. We know from previous endeavors that Beanie has sensitive tootsies, and perhaps more significantly, she doesn’t particularly enjoy a long slow plod. A long sprint with direction changes is fine, but a plod (and in my current woeful shape that’s all I’m capable of) is just plain boring for her. Biggles on the other hand likes to set a steady pace and stick to it, so regretfully we told the organizers that Beanie would be relegated to the role of cheerleader.

So, at around 10.40 I was queuing up with the Biggly boy at the start line. The race start was staggered with each runner setting off at 15 second intervals, so by the time it was our turn to go Biggles was really excited and desperate to chase after the other doggies. Almost as soon as I crossed the line and started running he was aarrffing, grunting and squealing for all he was worth. Of all the dogs I saw starting before me, he was easily the most focused and “up for it”. It was a pity then that he was towing a puffing, panting tub of lard (me) and as we hit the first and most severe climb of the course and I dropped to walking pace, his frustration was palpable. He burned a lot of energy trying to pull me up that hill and once we got going again on a gentler gradient, he was running hot. Fortunately we were up so high that there was still snow on one side of the path, and as I moved over to the edge of the path to let him reach it, he dived straight in and lay flat on his tummy. For a moment I wondered if he’d already burned himself out and we should just walk the rest of the course (you can’t blame me for hoping, right?) However, once he’d cooled his tum for a few seconds he grabbed a couple of mouthfuls of snow and set off again. The next 100m were surreal. I was jogging along on the path in hot sun while Biggles was bounding along in the snow filled ditch beside me with a big stupid grin on his face.

After the shock of that first brutal climb the rest of the course wasn’t that bad, though it still felt like it was mostly uphill. I kept looking ahead and thinking “OK, I can keep running to that corner, and after that we’ll surely have a flat or downhill section, right?” but more often than not we’d turn that corner and just see another long, slow climb. Still, Biggles’ enthusiasm kept me going and we actually got to pass a few other runners. CaniX protocol demands that you clearly announce your intention to overtake so that reactive dogs can be reeled in to avoid any clashes. In Biggles’ case, there was rarely any need to shout “coming through!” because his aarrffing and grunting did a much better job of announcing our presence.

There was one point where we did get a decent downhill section, but unfortunately it didn’t really offer much opportunity for recovery. Why? Well for one thing it was very steep and kind of slippery. And for another, it had a big thick tree trunk going right across it at head height! Yep, there you are half running, half skidding down this steep incline and suddenly you either have to duck or spend the rest of the day being a guinea pig for the first-aiders. As I passed that hazard I was very grateful I just had a little Beagle pulling me and not a pair of Huskies.

Finally we hit the descent to the finish, and the aarrffing machine went into overdrive again. I thought we were home and dry. Then, with just a couple of hundred yards to go and his Mum calling him from the line, Biggles suddenly developed an interest in some bikers heading off on a trail to the left. “Biggles! It’s this way you plonker!” I yelled, and my boy quit baying, skidded to a halt and turned to look at me blankly. It took a couple of seconds for the penny to drop, then he turned to face the finish line again and the arrffing resumed. We crossed the line and received a bag of tasty Burns Kelties for our trouble.

With the exception of that spot of confusion over the bikers, little Biggles could not have been better. I’m going to work hard at getting myself back to full fitness so that when the next CaniX run comes around I’ll be better able to give him the partner he deserves!

Video from the run – without all the sweaty hill climbing bits:

Return Trip To Aberystwyth

Posted on April 8, 2010 by Paul

Biggles has recently gained some additional brain cells. We’re not quite sure where he got them from; Susan thinks that maybe they fell out of Beanie’s head and into his during a robust play session.

Whatever their origin, they’ve granted Biggles some new abilities. Firstly, he’s become a master tactician. When gets into a chase with Beanie in our garden, he heads straight for the rear of the shed and lies in wait for Beanie. When she arrives, he tricks her into taking the long way round and quickly legs it round the other side.

Suckered her again!

Eat my dust, Beanie!

Admittedly he sometimes cuts it a bit too close and things don’t work out, but his strategy is sound.

It’s a royal pain in the bum if you don’t factor in Beanie’s remarkable acceleration

His other new talent is more of a problem for us – he can now open all the sliding-door cupboards in our house. It started with a few accidental openings caused by rough and tumbles with Beanie, but then he figured out how to do it at will. On the evening the breakthrough came, I heard some unexpected chewing sounds and found the Bigglet down at the far end of the corridor with a Paint Pod roller in his mouth. I retrieved it and shut the cupboard, but then two minutes later worrying noises summoned me and there he was again, indulging his obsession with the Paint Pod. This repeated three more times before I put an end to it by stapling heavy duty velcro onto the door and cupboard frame. Of course I only protected one of the cupboards, so shortly afterward I found him and Beanie lying on our spare duvet together, busy chewing off all the washing care labels. Yep, he’d figured out that his technique would carry over to the other cupboard. The next day, Biggles seemed to have disappeared from the house for a couple of minutes, until I spotted that the sliding wardrobe door in our bedroom was slightly open. Opening it fully I saw Biggles sitting among Susan’s shoes with a “Yes? Can I help you?” look on his face. I predict that our local Tesco is going to run out of velcro in the near future.

It doesn’t stop there. The other night he opened the door to the kitchen and managed to get his jaws round some very spicy leftovers. His bottom paid the price the next day (ever heard a Beagle singing Ring of Fire?) but I somehow doubt that it’s put him off. All this extra thinking has taken it’s toll on the Biggly boy though. And on Beanie. And on us.

Finally, on today’s tea time walk, Biggles’ new found intelligence somehow prompted a discussion about whether our Beagles truly understand spoken commands. I feel that they do, and decided to put it to the test. As we walked along, I said “stamp collection” in the same voice I use to call them over for a treat, and neither of them responded. Then I said “treat time” and they trotted over expectantly. It was all very encouraging, but then I blew it, because for some reason the spectacularly random “Return trip to Aberystwyth” brought them running. Still, Biggles can now open doors and cupboards, and that’s good enough for me.

A Necessary Sacrifice

Posted on March 28, 2010 by Paul

The clocks have gone forward on hour! We’re now officially in British Summer Time (BST) and just to prove that the weather has a sense of humor, temperatures are supposed to dip below freezing tonight and stay low for most of next week.

This is not exactly ideal conditions for germinating grass seed. It’s pretty obvious we’re not going to have a fully recovered lawn for at least a month, if not two, and since we’re not prepared to deprive Beanie & Biggles of their play area for any longer, we’ve decided to “sacrifice” half of the garden. A fence will keep the lower half safe from Beagle interference for however long it takes the grass to regrow, and in the meantime our two hooligans can let off steam in the upper half, saving their sanity and ours. Later in the year we can either swap sides or fence off small areas for localized repairs.

I have to say that Beanie and Biggles seem quite pleased with our decision..

Even though they were given more or less free rein within their enclosure, they didn’t disturb the bare soil and seed much at all. I’ve noticed that our Beagles seem to have a talent for homing in on the things we don’t want them to mess with; the flip side is that if we’re not bothered about something, there’s a fair chance they’ll leave it alone. When I saw Biggles getting very interested in a graveled corner by the fence, I tried to make this Beagle intuition work for me; I figured that if I didn’t react, maybe he’d just give it a couple of sniffs and move on.

Apparently the Beagle “sixth sense” also enables them to suss out when you’re trying to use reverse logic.