26 Čvc Archer’s IGP 2 Series, Part 3: Tracking and Obedience

As I was writing this article, Archer, like he usually does, was lying on his doggie bed and watching me. He just can’t wrap his head around why I would spend so much time sitting by the computer when I could be out with him and having fun. The sacrifices this poor dog has to make so you guys can have something to read!

I told him I was writing about our trial day, and he insisted he would be the one to describe it to you. I managed to convince him to let me do some commentary, but other than that, take it away, Arch!

The weird morning

Hi, folks. Well, finally, I got a word in. How many articles has it been and not a single word from the most important member of this team, the one who holds all this together, me? It’s a disgrace, if you ask me. Please let Dad know you want more articles from me.

Looking back at the trial day, I can tell you I knew something was off right off the bat because Dad came to walk me and Finka way earlier than usual. I was sound asleep, chasing some cats in my dream, when he woke me up. I didn’t object, though, of course. Who am I to protest against a walk and a full bowl of food?

We had an early wake-up call. The judge insisted on coming very early—not something I would enjoy, considering we hit the pub the night before, but here we were. I know Archer wouldn’t be able to track very well on an empty stomach, so I made sure to feed him in advance so he had time to digest everything before we had to go.

Dad, please don’t interrupt. Nobody cares what you have to say. I am going to say it better. So, where was I? Oh, with my belly full, I dozed off for a while again, and then Dad took me out to the field.

I was overjoyed! Playing again? We had been playing so much lately that I couldn’t believe my luck! But, if this was a game, it was a pretty dull one. I had to sit and not move while a strange guy was touching me. Lucky for him, Dad had his stern look and said I couldn’t move and that it was just for the man to read the chip. Strange men never touch me, no sir! Women, that’s another story—those, I like.

Eating from the grass

Finally, something interesting happened when we drove off. I always watch where we are going, and sure enough, it was eating-from-the-grass time! I love it!

You wouldn’t believe it, folks, but sometimes, there grows a strange sign from the ground at a meadow, and if you carefully smell the trampled grass underneath, it it will lead you to all kinds of treats! It’s awesome!

Dad can spoil it a bit, insisting I go slow and not make mistakes, but other than that, it’s a blast. This time, it was really easy, very short, and had no tricky corners like yesterday, so I had no problems getting to the end at all.

There were a few of those annoying smelly things on the ground, and get this—Dad did not even reward me with meat when I downed at them! That pissed me off. I mean, I only do those for him—I would much rather keep going—so it’s only fair that I get some of that delicious meat, isn’t it?

To show my contempt, I took my sweet time lying down. That would teach him! Oh, and let’s not forget, this time there was no food at the track. I checked. I smelled really hard and close to the ground—no food.

Fortunately, there was another sign growing from the ground close by, which Daddy lead me to after shaking hands with the strange guy from before, and this one had my favorite treats! Finally, I got some meat for another article, so I was happy.

I was happy as well. Arch had a very nice track. We lost just a few points for his leisurely article indication, but his track following was nearly flawless. I always reward him with a short track with treats after the trial track, and he enjoyed that very much.

Finally, play time!

Back at that awesome place where we always play together, I had to wait for a while and the other dogs got to play first. I really don’t get it. Why should anyone else but me be playing? I can play better than anyone; it should always be my turn.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long, and Dad came to get me and told me it was finally my turn. I was overjoyed to go play that game Dad calls “obedience.” It’s a pretty stupid name, if you ask me. What does it have to do with obedience? I am certainly not obedient. I always do whatever the hell I want.

I love playing with Dad, but what I really don’t enjoy is all the waiting. I mean, I know it’s part of the game, but come on. Let’s just go heel together, or let me bring that funny wooden thingy instead of just waiting around.

I could tell that, for some reason, Daddy really wanted me to do well today, so I tried really hard. I didn’t squeal once until almost the very end! I have to admit, I did use the opportunity to get a better view of Dad while we heeled together. I know he doesn’t like that, but he didn’t seem to mind that day and didn’t tell me anything.

I also sat down from standing the moment he came back after walking away. I know he always insists on telling me when to sit, but do I look stupid? I wanted my ball, so I sat down right away. Why the wait?

Come to think of it, that play session was remarkably ball-less. I did get a little kick out of biting the dumb wooden thing I had to bring Dad three times after he threw it away, though. Beats me why he always throws it away when he wants it so badly.

I was getting really anxious for my ball already. Fortunately, we went back to the starting point, and I knew what that meant: run like hell and get my ball at the end of the field. I was ready, muscles all tense, and finally, after a short walk, Dad let me run. And boy, did I run.

I was just a little bit away from where I knew the ball had to be hiding when I heard dad shout “Down!” Excuse me?? Down? Now? There is surely a ball hiding there!

Then, I remembered how Dad has this annoying superpower of teleporting my ball to his hand with the word “down,” and so I stopped and looked at him in anticipation. In the spur of the moment, I might have forgotten ‘down’ means elbows on the ground, so Dad had to remind me. And guess what? I never got my ball—even for that performance! Now, where can I file a complaint about that?

Dad came over to pick me up, and then he turned to walk to that bloody spot where I have to just lie down. He knows I hate that spot, and he wanted me to walk right over there, I could tell.

Now, that was a bit too much for me, and I let him have it. I barked my disappointment from this play session at him and at least jumped very high right next to him to do something more fun. But, Dad insisted, so what should I do? I know the rules of the game.

After some annoying waiting time, I lied down and watched Dad’s back, hoping he would move and do something funny to spice it up a bit. Alas, he didn’t, and then he came to get me, and we walked over to the strange guy from before again. Dad shook his hand again—I mean, why does he keep touching him?!—and we walked to the edge of the field where finally, finally, I got my ball. Took you long enough, Dad!

Arch really tried his best. He was utterly silent, not a squeak or bark from him until we heeled over to the down under distraction spot. His heeling position was a bit off, so I have to figure out a new way for him to hold it. He chewed on the dumbbell a bit, and I had to give a second “down” command as his elbows were a few centimeters above ground during the send-away. All in all, a very nice performance, and I was proud of my boy.

The points from the judge did not reflect this, though, and we received much less than we anticipated. The judge was apparently not fond of crazy, high-energy Malinois. Well, his loss, I suppose.

Next week, Archer will let you know how protection went, and I will sum up everything you can learn from our mistakes and hardships. Stay tuned, and be mindful!