Clean Run Magazine - January 2008 - 68

Naming your dog can have meaning beyond the agility ring. We pay homage to people and things that hold significance in our lives: Darwin, Winston, Harley, Waylon, and Yoda. Long after letter sweaters and insignia caps wear out, our dogs carry the names of our alma maters. Schools in the Atlantic Coast Conference are represented by Packer, Deacon, and Duke. You could name your dog Tarheel, but it would seem to invite a lot of walking with your dog at your side. Naming our dogs for a person, place, or thing brings a smile to our faces and reveals to others a little about ourselves. Names also come from favorite stories. Years ago by chance, or as I believe, by fate, I picked up from the bookstore bargain bin a collection of short stories entitled Cold Noses and Warm Hearts. Great title, great price, there must be at least one good story in this. The last story, “The Road to Tinkhamtown,” defines what it means to be man’s best friend and dog’s best friend. This story put words to then what my heart vaguely knew. When confronted with truth, presented plainly and honestly, no response is necessary. I read the last word of the story. My hand remained between the pages of the open book. How did over three decades pass since this story was first published without my reading it, without everyone reading it? This story is about the unbreakable bond between a hunter and his dog, a man and man’s best friend, a bond that death could not break. The man, as most of us do, outlived his dog. Now on his own death bed, he discusses with his friend, also his physician, where you go when it is over. His friend believes you go someplace called heaven. The man believes he is going someplace where he was happiest. He recalls the simple pleasure of walking with his dog to his favorite hunting ground, a place called Tinkhamtown. On their journey he walks down a long washed-out road and then onto an overgrown trail as Cider runs through the forest covering ten times the ground. They stop for lunch on a rock formation. Cider rests his muzzle on his thigh while he finishes a sandwich. Over an old bridge and into a clearing lie crumbling foundations marking the homesteads that once comprised all of Tinkhamtown. He and his dog Cider hunted there every opening day of grouse season. Only he and Cider knew of this place. It was their secret. He never revealed its whereabouts to even his best human friends. The act of hunting was more important than actually acquiring game. He describes watching Cider stand on point over a grouse but never mentions shooting a grouse. In fact, he points out how he missed his shot that day. His dog fulfilled his potential as a hunting dog: marking game and waiting patiently for his partner to find him. He was along to share the moment. Through the woods and into Tinkhamtown they knew each other perfectly. They knew when to run, when to walk, when to hunt, and when to rest. They lived together not in the pursuit of titles and awards, but in the pursuit of each other. He was going back to the past—to Tinkhamtown where he was happiest. So, what’s in the name Cider? I do not expect she will be my hunting partner although I anticipate watching her race through a field full throttle on a retrieve: her eyes keen on the mark and her muscles driven by instinct. I confess I hope to earn some agility titles if only to prove I can match her enthusiasm and drive. But titles are not the true goal. The name Cider represents the pursuit of excellence in a relationship, to achieve together what cannot be done alone. The goal is to know each other so completely that an agility run appears as a choreographed dance, two halves of one team moving fluidly and flawlessly. Each practice and each run is another building block in our Tinkhamtown. I look forward to remembering the past we make today. “I need Cider, Duke, Rox, Zeke, and Harrison to the starting gate.” Cider and I walk to the start line. Cider pulls at the lead. My heart picks up pace in response. She sits and I loosen the lead. I look at the timer for permission to start. Cider looks up at me for permission to start. I look back at her and smile. The morning sun warms my face. The dew glimmers in patches where the sun breaks through the trees. The smell of grass and damp earth fills the air. Friends exercise their dogs, the food vendor lights a charcoal grill, and the photographer places his finger on the shutter. It is another great memory in the making. The author of “The Road to Tinkhamtown” is Corey Ford. In two different publications in as many days, I saw Corey Ford quoted. The quote, “Properly trained, a man can be dog’s best friend,” is from his 1952 book Every Dog Should Have a Man: The Care and Feeding of Dog’s Best Friend. I was delighted to see other people quote this author. I was disappointed that both times, the author’s name was misspelled. It turns out the quote was copied from a book of quotes that had misspelled his name. Oh, the irony. For the record, his name is not Cary or Carey but Corey Ford. I hope you get a chance to read “The Road to Tinkhamtown.” More important I hope you have the desire to find your Tinkhamtown. It may be on an agility field, in a field trial, or even on your living room sofa minus two cushions. It could be anywhere, anytime—maybe even now. D Cider is Bill’s first agility dog. His first AKC agility competition was in Savannah, Georgia, in November 2003. That weekend they earned three blue ribbons in four runs. They would have earned the fourth ribbon if he had been a seasoned, competent handler. The theme of human error holding down the “Q rate” has followed them closely since. In the years since their first agility trial, he has improved significantly as a handler, but hesitates to conjure the notion of being competent, let alone the notion of consistent. Cider has humored and humbled him along the way and still found room to bless him with Novice, Open, and Excellent titles and as of October 20, 2007, a MACH title. 68 Clean Run | January 08

Clean Run Magazine - January 2008

Table of Contents for the Digital Edition of Clean Run Magazine - January 2008