Agility people may be better at navigating a course than writing a story but
here's a chance for you to put pen to paper - or fingers to keyboard.
Email your short
stories and other contributions to Agilitynet and see your name in print somewhere other
than/as well as in The Voice or Eye tables.
A Message to All Show Organisers
Just to broadcast to
everyone I won't be going to any shows in 2017 that don't specifically cater
only for me and my dogs! This is so that all show organisers know that they need
to contact me directly to discuss what I want. Otherwise that's it. I'm not
By Dawn Gilmour
Dear Weather -
It really is nice of you
to try to average out the temperatures between Summer and Winter, however here
are a few things you should know -
I like sun in the
I love frost in the winter.
My winter duvet has not seen the light of day this year.
Agility Shows across the UK have been cancelled due to your poor judgement of
what you think is best for us.
Thousands of agility
handlers and their dogs have been left distraught as they
have had to do housework etc. when they should have been at an agility show!
My van does not cope well with mud and there has been more than enough of it in
My thermal knickers bought especially for this year are still in the package.
Please return the
weather to normal for 2017 or I may need to remove you as my friend!
Thank you in advance.
Out of the Skies
From Alan Gardner
This is a true story and a surreal moment...
I was up the field training when an airplane lands in the
field. A man gets out panting and runs up to me.
'Are you okay?' I asked.
The pilot replied, 'Yes, just landed as my engine is running cold and I need to
put some tape over the vent. Hope I didn't disturb dogs?
And here is the clincher...
He looks at Jaidi and says, 'I didn't know you could do agility with
Bernese Mountain Dogs!'
So now people drop out of the sky to see what breed he is...
Rambling with Rebus
by Elaine Thomas
The twilight is deepening as we set off across the fields –
the last remnants of the sun striking the clouds gold.
The dogs chase through the long grass – their passing
leaving a smoke trail of pollen.
They barrel after the ball, so intent they don’t see the
fox in the hedgerow – it watches them quietly and then slips into the dense undergrowth without
My old Dalmatian Morse, slops along in the collies wake –
content to watch them circle and spin. Old age has robbed him of his graceful economical trot,
but on a quiet summers evening, he is quite happy to spend an hour nose down, tail ceaselessly
waving, nearly but not quite keeping up.
On the horizon a jet takes off from Gatwick through the
layers of gold and purple, and I wonder what holiday destination they are going to.
Rob turns his head just to check I’m there, and Morse rubs
his head on my leg. I lean down to pull his ears and decide I don’t want to be anywhere
else than here, in the darkening twilight with my dogs.
Five seconds later I walk into a ravenous swarm of midges –
and the mood vanishes. Rebus then hurls himself into the river with no thought as to how he
will get out, and eventually scrambles up the bank, showering me in smelly water, mud and
Still, the squall of stagnant water frightens
off the midges.
Smelling like the bottom of a pond, we squelch