Fall 2003, Louise had decided to host a trial. After practicing all summer, I was good and ready to compete with Data in this trial. Data and I didn't fare too poorly at this trial, we got a 5th place on the second day if I recall correctly. This achievement, in my mind, made us good enough to move up a class to Pro-Novice. I moved him up against nearly everyone's advice and, with that wonderful 20/20 hindsight, i realize now that I shouldn't have. This sport is a team sport and both members of the team need to be ready for the next class. Data was certainly ready but I was not. Today, Data and I are still struggling to get through a Pro-Novice course. Some would argue that we should have left the sport by now out of sheer frustration. Believe me, I have had my tear-filled moments when I have wanted to quit but, I struggle through.
At Louise's trial there was some chatter about a retiring open dog that might be available. I really didn't pay much mind to the chatter practically until his leash was in my hand. That's how I met Boss.
One of the best things a novice handler can do is run a retired open dog in Pronovice. Boss was almost literally dropped in my lap. Although he was nine years old, the price was spot on and he became an offer I couldn’t refuse. I worked with Boss over the winter and took him to Alasdair's clinic the following spring at Dal and Kate’s. Alasdair stood beside me and literally told me what to do. After a couple of days with Alasdair, I started to get a feel for driving and handling. I remember working Boss the last day of the clinic, Alasdair at my side telling me nothing. He said to me, "If you keep working him like that, you are going to win a lot of dog trials." I beamed.
As I have mentioned before it takes some time to get to know a new dog. I spent the summer using Boss for chores at Louise's farm. Boss has never been difficult to get along with and he has always been handy.
One evening, Louise went down to the barn to do some chores. She didn't need a dog so she didn't take one. Once she was there though, she realized she did need a dog and didn't have one. She started to walk up to the house and there was Boss waiting at the gate. Since Boss was handy, she opened the gate for him and he helped her out. Boss would work for anyone as long as they were fair.
On our walks, Boss would get lost in the long grass. He would stop and bark just once so I could find him and show him the way. He was responsive and obedient. He knew exactly what to do, far better than I did. My clumsiness with my flanks became very apparent. I would ask him for a flank, often a wrong flank that made no sense to him. He would indicate with his head the direction I asked, but wouldn't go. I learned so much from him that summer. He showed me how to pen, he helped me learn to use that diabolical whistle. He gave me everything he had and then some. If I had to pick things I didn't like about Boss I would have to say he ran too wide, and he bit the other dogs in the head at the door, and he ate stuff. Most notably, a corn cob that nearly killed him.
In June of 2005 I ran Boss in the Milton trial. Our run felt really good to me. No chaos, no screaming or dog running amok. Boss just brought the sheep to me in an orderly fashion. Around the course and into the pen. I had never penned in competition before so I was pleased. I stood at the exhaust while Boss relaxed and cooled off in the tub. During that moment I felt satisfied. I watched the next run and patted ole' Boss. I reflected on our work and relished in the fact that we had simply done good work.
As I walked back to the truck with him, people were coming up to me and congratulating me, strangers wanted to talk to me, I was being interviewed for a newspaper or a TV show. It was a strange contrast to the pensive solitude I had enjoyed only moments ago, just Boss and I. I did my best to answer their questions, “Boss just made me look good.” “He did all the work.”. It was absolutely true. I had only helped Boss a little bit.
Finally, I was able to put Boss up and Louise was coming toward me, holding up her index finger - #1. When she got closer she said to me “That was the first place run, it had to be. “ I was incredulous. She was right, we won that day. The next day Boss lost his sheep at the top, took them back to the set out pen and we were done. Such is the nature of dog trialling.
My trial career was cut short with Boss. He ate that corn cob at the age of 10 and ended up having to have almost all of his small intestine removed. He continued to work for a while but I never competed with him after that but he never stopped wanting to work.
He lived to be 14 years old.
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