So, after running the same course about twenty times in my sleep last night, I felt pretty good about sending Gin out for her run today. I got there late in the morning, after having to talk to Chris several times during the morning to see if his head was on straight - let me explain. My tough cowboy had knocked his coconut when he was five years old when he fell out of the loft of the barn, and since we have been married, there has been a few incidences when he is found, horse at side, and not remembering anything. Sometimes he loses only a day, sometimes a week, once he lost a few years. Over time, things are usually remembered - if only he would remember to put his socks in the hamper. I try to tell him that he also loves to vacuum, but that is fallen onto deaf ears - perhaps that is result of multiple concussions as well. In any case, Chris was doing alright, and he did remember I was going to run Gin in the afternoon. I got to the trial field and just about missed Louanne's run with Mack in nursery. The run wouldn't get her to the second go round, but it wasn't anything to bury her head into the sand about. Mack however thought it was, since during the day after his run, he proceeded to dig a very large hole where he was tied outside of her trailer - about the size of his head. On the open field, things were, how do you say, ghastly. Out of the 36 runs today, only about 9 had three digit figures in their score, quite a few double digits, a good number RT's and quite a few trips to the Dairy Queen. I was one of the ones that went to Dairy Queen. I sent old faithful Gin out, she went out nicely and started to pick her sheep. The flocking ewes started to flock offline, so I started to whistle, then whistle louder. When Gin did hear the whistle, it caused a major flocking disturbing episode, and a split ensued, and two went to the set out, and the other went to origins unknown. In hindsight, I should have shut my mouth, but then, I, not being very quiet, finds this hard to do. Gin was bringing the sheep down, and maybe we could have had a score, but it was not going to be today. There were a few other very good dogs whose runs went down the gutter. That is how dog trialing goes - from hero to zero. My sponsor, Pamela Reeve from Washington was very gracious, and I do apologize that she drove all that way to watch our run - but then, she did see the best recall all week. Stellar performance. Top notch. But I hope I don't have to do it again in a long while.
After the trial was over, which happened to be early afternoon since of the time saved from all the non-digit scores, we had a USBCHA meeting, and then the nightly duty of heading off to Texas. Here is where the Holme's residence was finally christened. On their new trailer is the letters HTR - now to be forever known as the Hub's Titty Ranch. Since the gatherings have often been the gathering of King Hub and a gaggle (or is that giggle) of ladies, I do believe this is most fitting. There are various ones on this ranch - small ones, big ones, unmatched ones, seasoned ones - but they are all real ones. No room for fake ones here - no sir. Only the best of the breast.