Everyone had a minute. Tall to small. We ran 22". We never run 22" but she will have to at our first USDAA in March. So. Bought four rounds. Two whiskeys and two beers. Or really. Two excellent, two novice---four different courses. Adrenaline at an all time high. Get your sexy on Stell.

First run we ran the 18 cone course as set. You get what you pay for. A DW into the wall. (Rut-ro.) But, she didn't leap. She did slow down. Flirted. That skinny world rattled under her feet. But she didn't leap. Gooood. Girl. MEATBALLS right there ON THE SPOT. Party on Stell. Feeling hot hot hot.

Second course got us a--hiccup, excuse me--leap and then an eh, a slightly better do-over---it looked still too um your RDW panty line is showing Stell, hike it up, pull it down, whatever--looking leapy to me. But the ringcrew gal said "she was in--one rear foot" and timer said "time". Ooooh kind of like speed dating. Next.

Third course was novice, a game with fewer cones yeah, but deceptively tricky. Like beer pong. Though I've never played. But, I hear you don't realize you are getting drunk until suddenly you are ready for the hospital. Obstacles packed in like sardines without the smell. Yes, mixed metaphors. Who cares. A skintight 45 degree or less turn out of the chute, the chute?out of the chute, to a tire, to a tire? totally to a tire on an angle-to-instantly-in-your-face-leering-at-you-weaves. After that you think whew. But not. Because. There's the angled jump set right next to a big fat padded basement pillar (not your standard agility obstacle, but there were four of them on every course probably set there so we could practice layering and independence and blind handling) and heres the thing... because of the racy 45 degree turn (or less) you find yourself on the wrong side of the jump and now you have to hustle quite a distance past a seduction, the first tunnel entrance to that second tunnel entrance hiding like a wallflower way over there under the DW. Every gal (only two men bellied up last night) walkin the walk was flummoxed. Baffled. Bumping into each other like drunks trying to figure it out. A men-from-the-boys moment for gals. It seemed. But, not really. The answer was hike up yer thigh high boots and show us a little bra strap---BLIND CROSS AFTER THE WEAVES ladies>>> ok so that was fun. What did Stell's DW look like? Not. Good. redo redo redo... time. 

Time to powder our nose? We went out to pee by the railroad tracks.

Last round. Screw what everyone else is drinking. We're making our own concoction. No turning back. The DWs the thing we came to take home. Got to take home. We sashayed out a couple jumps of our choosing, teetered and lay down on a table and I had a ball. Really. I had a ball. In my hand. I wanted the contact. My only real agility desire. That wild ass running and intimacy with the zone. Darling you send me. Yup, send me. I sent her. And rolled the ball. Like dice. Did she get it? Was she in? Are we winners tonight? We feel like winners, but are we? She blew by me and was ordering a double when I caught up to her. The double jump. Flying high with dog joy. She thinks she got it, she thinks she's best dog in the world. Yep, ringcrew gal said. She was in. yeeehaw baby.

Sooooooo. I called it a night. We had more seconds. We could have done so many things. In my mind we'd done the deed. Or close enough. We WERE taking that DW there in White Plains home. Got familiar with a stranger. All we wanted. A notch in the collar. My chocolate fuzzball. Total happy tail time.


 PS: 22" is a Stella breeze. Wonder what 26" looks like... 

PPS: I don't think we need to go back there. An hour and 15 up because of city police terror threat practice tactics and then 40 back.