This weekend, we went to a seminar. By Rob. Who is one of my agility teachers. And my agility pal. And who happens to own Hobbes, rockstar coolness my favorite border collie in the universe and big huge super gambler’s champ.

As opposed to Team Small Dog. Who collectively posesses exactly 3 Master’s Gamblers Q’s. My non agility friends, we need these Q’s to get our ADCh or else we end up with sad, unfulfilled lives, passed out on the floor of the Chelsea Hotel with the police on our way and not sure who’s blood that was all over the place and it’s not a nice ending to the story. So we need all the help we can get. Rob said he would try to help us, but it was also possible we were beyond help. Like our problems may involve a voodoo curse and could take intervention of zombies to get it off of us. We thought we would go to the seminar anyways. Curse or no curse, we are determined to muddle through and get those gambler’s Q’s.

Also, it was the super fun wedding of one of my oldest and bestest friends and I was the official Wedding Photographer. Many dogs were invited to the wedding, yet curiously, not Team Small Dog. We were happy the wedding went off without a hitch and no small animals were eaten there, nor any food stolen off the buffet line, no barking at of guests, drinks toppled and no wedding cakes invaded by dog fiasco. Was very smart to not invite Team Small Dog! Although, perhaps not coincidentally to our good fortune in Master’s Gamblers, I did manage to kill my dad’s camera AFTER the wedding, although I did save all the wedding photos! The camera will have to go to the hospital, a fact of which we mourn. Is sort of like knocking the bar after getting the super hard gamble, my agility friends. A heartbreaking ending to a moment of bliss.

Here are some things we learned this weekend:

It is challenging to go to a Master’s Gambler’s Seminar after a wedding that contained much wild dancing and perhaps some bottles of wine. Sort of like it was challenging to go straight to the wedding after getting up super early to go to work. After a rehersal dinner/bachelorette party that contained perhaps some bottles of wine. Was sort of that type of weekend.

Since the camera is in the ambulance currently, en route to the camera doctor, we will have to use wedding photos taken with my camera from the grassy knoll after I went off duty as Official Photographer to illustrate important points from the Master’s Gambler’s Seminar. Um, to Rob’s defense, I should emphasize here that I am PARAPHRASING what Rob said here and he would tell you these things somewhat different. Really different. Rob uses the Scientific Method of Dog Training and he has Hobbes, and I use the Team Small Dog method and I have a hangover.

Consitency, consitency, consitency. If it smells like a pinwheel, your dog should get it that there’s a pinwheel. Use your Dumbo Ride arm and get your dog out there. But make sure it really does smell like a pinwheel and you are not violating the Law of the Refusal Line. Discrimination? Arm out or shoulder in. Deal with your Refusal Lines and Discriminations, people, to figure out how best to do your gamble.

Consitency, consitency, consitency. Footwork. OK, you were pointing to the right place, pushing perpendicular to your dog’s path, not the obstacle. Still didn’t go out to the tunnel? Where were your feet pointing? Did you accessorize the bottom of your outfit to the top of your outfit so the whole outfit says tunnel, not just your blouse? Shoes matter!

Otterpop is not retarded, she can do the hard gambles as soon as everyone is NOT LOOKING and has gone to sit at the far end of the field and I have proof from Mary who secretly watched out of the corner of her eye. Otterpop was the one that got the dogwalk gamble first! Good god, someone help me remove this zombie curse.