By 6:00 she was in the shower, rushing to get dressed, dry her hair, search for homework and books, then gobble cold cereal while her mom called to her that she was going to be late.
Out the door for school before 7:00. School, lunch, school. In the meantime, her mom squeezed in another walk with Chance in the afternoon between her work serving on two different boards, organizing church events, driving Ashley everywhere, and taking care of the house.
An hour of gymnastics at 3:30. Home at 5:00 to run out with Chance and throw his ball in the park until they were both exhausted. Dinner at 6:30 as soon as her dad got home, Chance passed out on the wood floor under the table, her parents both smiling and glancing down at him, shocked that their crazy dog could actually nap during mealtime.
Then homework until just before sunset when Ashley grabbed Chance’s new treat bag, full of his evening’s kibble ration, and worked for half an hour on the agility course in the backyard. Mostly on the weave poles and A-frame. He seemed to understand the jumps and tunnel okay, but he bounded off the A-frame without hitting the contact zone and the weave poles continued to flummox him.
Ms. Jennson had assured them that there wouldn’t be a teeter-totter in the beginner classes at the trial they had entered for August, so that, at least, was one thing they didn’t have to worry about.
By 9:00, Ashley was so tired she couldn’t keep her eyes open as she brushed her teeth. She fell into bed with mumbled prayers, asleep in minutes with Chance crashed on his bed beside hers rather than slobbering around and trying to climb into bed beside her while she read at night.
Then up at 5:30 to start again.
By the time school let out, Ashley was so relieved, she didn’t even mind that Chance was still apparently years away from being competition ready. She babysat nearly every weekend and one or two evenings a week now. Her thirteenth birthday was coming up and she would have birthday money from out-of-state relatives. With all this pooled together, Ashley started Chance on once a week private lessons with Ms. Jennson—besides the weekly group classes with her and private sessions at home with Robin that her parents paid for.
Chance had learned to wait at the door on command and only go out once he heard, “Okay.”
He had learned to sit and wait each time he wanted the ball to be thrown, rather than jumping and barking for it. He’d stopped digging in the yard, stopped chewing, and almost stopped begging at the table all without any training. This, Robin said, was because he was tired.
“A tired dog makes a happy dog and a happy home,” Robin told them, and Ashley was relieved to discover she was right.
Chance mostly came when called now. He walked beside Ashley on the leash instead of racing ahead, though he still bit his leash like a puppy. He was even getting better about jumping up on people.
One thing he wasn’t getting better at was agility. When Ashley let him off the leash in group class, he still ran to see everyone else before he could listen to her. He still could not begin to grasp the idea of weave poles. He still launched himself off the A-frame and dog-walk as if plunging into a pond after ducks.
For a solid month, Robin, Ashley, and her mom, worked on self-restraint with Chance. He learned, “Leave it,” and, “Wait,” for more than just the front door.
Instead of kibble or dog treats, Ashley started taking bits of hotdog to class.
Ropes of drool hung from Chance’s jowls, but he didn’t scramble all over her like a mad puppy. He waited when she told him to. He stopped at the bottom of the A-frame when she placed the hotdog on a plastic target at the foot.
Ashley hugged him.
~ ~ ~
It was August 1st. A little over three weeks until trial day. Julia walked around the tiny yard to provide a distraction for Chance as Ashley sent him over jumps and across the A-frame. His tail waved back and forth the whole time, tongue out, a huge, Chance grin on his face. Ashley on the other hand, looked deadly serious.
“He’s got to go through six weave poles in a row in the trial,” she kept telling Julia. “Six poles and he’s not doing it.”
“You’ve got time,” Julia said.
But time was slipping away.
Chance leaped over his jump, turned, took the tire jump, then ran through the tunnel.
“Good!” Ashley called. “Walk it!” Pointing to the A-frame.
Chance bounded up the wood door, then down the other side to stop at the bottom, back paws on the door, front paws on the grass, as Ashley fed him several bits of kibble and hotdog.
“Okay!” and Chance was off again, another jump, onto the pause table, which was also a thrift store find, and, “Down!”
Chance dropped on the table and lay there, staring at Ashley, tail waving, mouth half closed now, watching her like she was the only person on Earth.
“Okay!”
He flew off the table and rushed at the weave poles.
“Easy—” Ashley held her hand, full of treats, in front of his nose and guided him one pole at a time through, back and forth. It was still the only way he could do the poles.
At dinner that evening, Ashley was glum. “He’s never going to get those poles on his own,” she said, stabbing at green beans with a listless fork. “Not in three weeks. Not ever.”
“Don’t say that,” Julia said. “You’re doing really, really well. Both of you. I know you’re going to have a wonderful time out there.”
“Yeah,” Ashley mumbled. “A wonderful time embarrassing myself.”
As the weeks flew by, Julia watched Ashley grow more and more discouraged. Had she been wrong to enter them in the trial? Was it really too soon? Would Ashley panic under the pressure? Would Chance run away in the unfamiliar place and try to play with other dogs? No toys or treats were allowed in the ring. No leashes. Not even collars.
When the day came, Julia checked everything off on the list Ms. Jennson had given them: folding chairs and water bottles, blankets and dog treats, plastic bags and lunch. They were in the car and on their way as the sun rose, taking the highway for an hour drive.
Beside her in the car, Ashley was pale and silent.
Julia didn’t know what to say. What if this was all a mistake? What if she had expected too much from her daughter and the silly dog? Hadn’t they done enough, changed enough, without a competition to prove anything?
They arrived early to sign in and get instructions from the steward as Ms. Jennson had coached them. Ashley learned the order she would be running in, what time she was due, and waited, refusing to eat anything, while Julia took Chance for a walk around the big, open grounds of the trial.
There was a beautiful grassy field where the courses were being set up, a green wood with RVs and cars parked along it, and a stream that Chance waded into, trying to swim.
Back at the car, Julia found Ashley looking a bit better as she talked to fellow students from Ms. Jennson’s class. Penny, the Shetland Sheepdog, and Sundance, the Border Collie, stood there with their handlers, all nervous and excited about their first trial. The grown women talked to Ashley like she was their equal, and smiled and waved when they saw Julia return with Chance.
Then Mary, Sundance’s handler, looked around. “Looks like they’re letting the first group in to walk the course.”
Julia sent Chance up into his crate in their Forester and offered to hang onto Penny and Sundance while all three of the handlers left to walk the course. Ashley carried an index card with her to mark where things were and remember, walking again and again while she made notes.
Julia knelt with Penny and Sundance, both quiet and well-behaved, watching her daughter.
When Ashley returned to the car, she sat in the open back beside Chance’s crate with her arm across the top of it, telling him about the field.
The hour wait they had from there rushed past like nothing. Julia was still trying to get Ashley to eat breakfast when Ashley was getting Chance out of his crate for a couple warm up jumps in the practice field. She got him a drink, walked hi
m around for a few minutes, left his treat bag and tennis ball at the car, and walked to the stewards’ table to await her turn.
Julia watched, heart pounding, hanging on tight to the digital camera.
At a word from the steward, Ashley walked into the ring of the beginner class for Chance’s jump height.
Julia closed her eyes, said a silent prayer.
Chance tugged at the leash, pulling Ashley to the start line.
Ashley stopped him and pointed to her own face. Julia couldn’t hear her from here, but knew what she was saying: “Sit. Watch me.”
Chance sat. He stared up into her face.
Ashley pulled the martingale collar off over his head, leash attached, and threw it to the side. She held her hand up flat in front of his face: “Wait.”
Chance gazed at her as she walked away, mouth for once closed, gaze intent.
Ashley watched him and smiled. She waved her arm. “Okay! Jump!”
Chance took the first jump like a bird. He jumped the second, then bounded up the dog-walk.
“Good!” Ashley called, running with him. She pointed to the end of the dog-walk. “Wait!”
He did, stopping at the bottom, watching her, tail waving.
“Yes!” Joy and relief rang from her as she beamed at her dog. “Good boy! Okay!”
They were off again. Chance took the next jump, then another, then ran for the weave poles.
Julia held her breath.
Chance darted for the poles, dashed in through the middle, then turned back as Ashley called him. “Here, easy, weave, weave.”
Chance started again and weaved—in, out, in, out—all the way to the end.
“Good!” Ashley shouted.
Chance ran with her for the next jump, tail swinging, mouth wide.
Up the A-frame, down and pause, off again for the tunnel. Through the tunnel, out, turning the wrong way, looking around for Ashley. He saw her calling on the far side and jumped over the tunnel instead of running around it.
Julia laughed. The ring judge help up his hand. Chance bounded on. Ashley was also laughing as Chance started back up the A-frame from the wrong side.
“Here!” she called.
Chance ran to her.
With words and hand signals, she got him lined up on course again and they took the last three jumps beautifully. Chance bounded over the final bar, then, seeing the neon rope of the temporary fence ahead, he sailed over that and out of the ring.
Ashley called him, kneeling down, arms wide, grinning.
Fifty people and dogs milled around beyond the boundary he had just jumped over. Cameras, food, judges, handlers, dogs bouncing on leashes and trying to reach him.
Chance heard Ashley call, turned, and, without a glance for anyone else, raced back to his girl. Ashley threw her arms around his neck.
Julia had tears in her eyes as she waited to meet them both—Chance on leash and panting, Ashley flushed. They walked around the outside of the ring and Julia hugged her daughter. Ashley’s smile had fallen away.
“We were disqualified for going off course,” Ashley said. “Jumping the tunnel and going the wrong way on the A-frame.”
“I know.” Julia smiled at her. “But that’s okay, sweetheart. You were amazing.”
“We didn’t even get a score.” Ashley bit her lip, looking down at her dog. After a pause, she admitted, “I prayed we’d do well.”
“Didn’t you?”
“Mom, we were disqualified.”
Julia reached out, gripping Ashley’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, you know what I prayed for this morning? I prayed you and Chance would have a good time. Would have a great experience. And you know what I saw out there just now? I saw a girl and her dog working together at something they loved. I saw the biggest smile on your face I’ve seen in a long time. And I really did see a whole different dog out there.”
Ashley looked again at Chance as he grinned up at her, tongue out, mouth wide, tail wagging.
“He came back,” she said softly. “I thought I’d have to chase him when he jumped out of the ring. But he came right back.”
Julia hugged her again. “He came because you’re a good teacher and he loves you. I don’t think any of us are going to be chasing Chance any more.”
Ashley looked at her, a question in her eyes.
Julia smiled. “He’s here to stay.”
Table of Contents
Chasing Chance
AP02 - Chasing Chance Page 2