Welcome to The Ink-Stained Gypsy. The premise is simple – dogs and life. Hiking in the timber. A glass of wine while watching fireflies on a summer evening. That sort of thing.
Bloody fingers when the dog misses the tug, sweaty heelwork sessions trying to fix that damned head position and trying to explain to the husband why you’re going to miss another of his family reunions because it's on a show weekend.
That sort of thing, too. Mostly that sort of thing. Dog training. The fellowship that unites people who love the same thing in a million different ways.
|Did you just sell the cat on Ebay?|
(Banner and Phoenix, 2017)
This blog is the product of a complete lack of good sense. I’m putting that on the table right now. I need one more thing to do like I need a hole in the head. I also desperately need a creative outlet or my day job is going to make me bat crap crazy.
Like the training building or show ring, this page is my happy place. Don’t expect to find deep intellectual observations here. I’m not solving the world's problems. I'm not pushing an agenda. I’m not selling a training method guaranteed to put your dog in the final four at the NOC. I’m not going to debate training methods although I may offer a few observations now and then.
I train dogs and I know things. Seriously. You want to see a cross-section of every personality (disorder) known to humankind? Get a dog and take up competitive obedience.
This page is likely to wander, hence the gypsy label. There are days when I write with clarity and days when I don’t word so good.
|Best-est thing ever, wandering with dogs|
Here’s my life in a nutshell. Iowa native. Print journalist, 30 years. Farm wife, 27 years. Dog obedience enthusiast since back in the days when watching a team earn a 200 was something you might see once in a lifetime, not once a weekend.
Three OTChs: one Sheltie, one Belgian Tervuren, one Belgian Malinois. Unforgettable journeys with incredible dogs who looked good in spite of me.
|Connor, Phoenix, Jamie, circa 2007|
I currently share my life with an Aussie. When he’s not reinventing the wheel in the obedience ring, he’s writing a book titled “How to Pick Up Girls While Killing Varmints Without Getting Blood on Your White Fur.” Seriously. You think I’m kidding. I am not kidding.
Banner (U-CDX Cedarwood’s Once Upon A Time, UD, OM1) is four. He’ll eat anything that can’t get away from him, has no concept of personal space and is so happy in the morning it should be against the law.
All right then. Glad you’re here. My goal is to post a couple of times a week. See you later.