Clean Run - October 2016 - 29

Bipartisan Lines in the Turf By Laura Hartwick, illustrations by author When the winds of change begin to blow, it's time for dog agility to elect a new ruler. All hail, ruler of dog agility, the times they are a-changing and will you measure your opinions in meters or feet? Heights in inches or centimeters? And then, what heights of dogs will you match up with heights of jumps and heights of A-frames and heights of waist bands for mid rise or low rise or hem line of moisture-wicking lined skorts? And when will this change happen and where is the paperwork required located and what special tool will be used to actually do the measuring to make it fair and how will it affect my dog? Sorry, all dogs, it's for the good of all dogs. Especially mine! Feel the Bernese Mountain dog! It's not just Border Collies for breakfast anymore! Love your dog, but not your neighbor in the canopy next door. The polls are saying that achieving consensus is as likely as a grassroots movement of love and acceptance sweeping in like a breath of fresh air instead of dividing the handlers even further down the yellow bipartisan gamble line stamped down with little golf tees in the turf. Let us not forget the ancestors we lost in the great handling system wars of the past. Grizzled old timers watch from the sidelines, timing equipment in their laps. They remember the skirmishes like they were yesterday. "I lost an eye!" they cry out, to no one in particular. "I remember back in the days of jump heights to my shoulder and 21" weave poles so tight the dogs had to tiptoe in from only one side. We had to walk to trials barefoot in the snow, none of those fancy heated seat mini vans back then; we moved A-frames hitched to the backs of long October 16 | Clean Run toothed hairy mammoths, inch by inch across the field." They pause, eyes gone hazy, but hopefully working again, and grudgingly hit the ready, steady, go button. The race is on. The winds of change start via whisper. They start during dog classes, while the instructor is attempting to explain the finer points of a slicey rear cross, but nary are listening because who can resist the pull of the whisper. And gossip over whose dog said what to whom last weekend. They become louder and hissier ringside at the trial. Perhaps you can hear the low murmur in the background when you play back your Grand Prix video, soundtrack picked up via homeland security voice recorder chip hidden in your camcorder. Many things you can learn in the video soundtracks when you play back on full volume. The murmur moves to the interwebs, where it becomes a droning, and transforms to all cap discussions, which extend the lengths of many screens and expand to boldface plus-size fonts, smoke rising from the screen of a sadly outdated iPhone that can't handle that much data. Facebook lobbyists filibuster plans that get shot up and down with tiny little thumbs that measure the popular opinion of the moment in likes. Handlers voice their economic discontent by voting with their trial dollars and register approval by clicking on the little Facebook heart, the deepest emotion available via app, way more meaningful than just a smiley, even one with teeth. I love my dog. I love yours. I love to win. I love you, but you're wrong and I'm right. That's all that matters, you know. Like every single civil war sparked by uncompromising differences 29

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Clean Run - October 2016