Since my mom keeps such a clean house (yeah, right!), I didn’t know much about rats until I went to my first Earthdog trial. But I soon found a sport that I could really wrap my mind around. Some humans find golf, bungee jumping, hang-gliding, or whittling away all their time on their computers interesting. My big sister, Maggie, thinks tennis ball retrieving and recreational eating are fun. I think Earthdog trials are the most fun of all.

I was nine months old when we first drove to Moses Lake in Eastern Washington. Before that, I’d only heard my Aunt Barley talk of the joys of the subterranean. She is a surfer of tunnels, and her record-breaking sprints to the quarry are well known among terriers and dachshunds of the Pacific Northwest where Maggie and I and our family live.

On the way up to Washington, I discovered the joys of riding on the car’s dashboard and snorting the air vents, but my humans kept getting annoyed with me and making me ride in my crate. They especially didn’t like it when I tried to go and den around the gas pedal of the car. But I was a young adolescent boy and a seeker of thrills and adventure.

We arrived in Moses Lake and stayed with the parents of my human dad, Larry. Their house in Moses Lake really is on a lake. They have a Dachshund named Penny, who has trained them to feed her steak and ice cream. Pretty impressive, huh? She’s a little pudgy, but she was a very nice hostess and occasionally even let us enjoy one of her chew toys without trying to steal it or bite off our heads.  

The morning of the first trial at the Grant County Fairgrounds was crisp and pleasant. There sure were a lot of dachshunds: big ones, little ones, smooth ones, ones with long hair, and these ones with these really nice hard coats, almost as gorgeous as our extraordinarily textured Cairn coats. There were a few other Cairns besides me and Maggie but not a whole lot. Maggie and I were going to try Introduction to Quarry, which they say is supposed to test to see if we still have the instinct to do what we were bred for. First Maggie went down the tunnel and did a pretty lame imitation of an Earthdog. She dug for a while, whimpered once or twice, and came out the tunnel. Then it was my turn. I’d never really seen a set up like this, but it was strangely familiar to me. Is this what they mean by "ancestral memory"? Immediately, I had to explore and mark this area and make it mine. Then I entered the tunnel with its enticing scent and its air of mystery, but I emerged when I noticed that there was a shortcut to the quarry. The above ground route seemed like the logical one. The rats were at the end of the tunnel where the people were, and this seemed like the closest distance between Points A and B, so that’s the path I took. I barked at the rats, but I "failed" the test. Later they tell me that the only way TO the rats is THROUGH the tunnel. How was I supposed to know that?

My human mom, Jill, had us pre-entered in Junior Earthdog. She sure was an optimist! Maggie only went into the tunnel after Mom gave her the command to "tunnel"—Maggie knew the word "tunnel" from her agility class, but she didn’t have enough time to get to the rat. My turn. Gee, I didn’t know that I only had thirty seconds. (What’s a second, anyway?) Besides, there were so many new smells…

The trials ended for the day, but the fun was just beginning. We got to practice that afternoon. I had the awesome opportunity to visit with the rats up close and personal. I could almost taste them! When the people put them into the den again, and I knew exactly what to do. There was no stopping me now. This was way too cool! My sister even had an enjoyable time teasing the rats. (I wonder why the rats always look so bored, though.) I got to go through the tunnel five or six times, and boy, was I loud! If the rats weren’t going to get excited, the least I could do was to blow their little eardrums out. This was fun, and my mom had to literally drag me out of the hole because I kept backing away from her. But they finally pulled the rats out, so there was no point in sticking around. I sure was pumped for the next day’s trials, though.

It was another beautiful morning, and now whenever anyone—even in the distance—said, "Get the rats," I knew what the day would bring. Maggie went first again in Intro, but she went into the tunnel and came out again. What was going through her head anyway? Did she miss the point entirely? And I’ve heard the humans say that she is smarter than I am. What a deluded bunch!

My turn. I couldn’t wait. I heard the signal, "Get-the-rats!" I went right down and started taking care of business immediately. You would have thought that the rats would have woken up or pretended to be impressed, but they looked unconcerned, sort of like they’d been hit on the head with an anvil or were in some kind of coma. Well, maybe if I kept barking and rocking, I’d get a reaction. Anyway, after an all too brief time, my mom came and took me away. But wait… I wasn’t done yet! I got a big hug, and a little later they called my name and gave my mom a little piece of lime green ribbon, and people clapped their hands.

Next was Junior. Maggie couldn’t have cared less. She looked at my mom who told her, "Tunnel, tunnel." She obeyed but once again came back out and decided that this time she would visit the rats by way of the back door. Later she told me that she thought that the humans were playing a trick on us. There was no way that we could ever GET the rats. She was a little pissed off about it, too. What did they think we were? Idiots? But I, Geordie, had faith—but just to make sure, I had to sniff around the area before going down the hole. After a few seconds, I was a man with a mission. I made my descent, got to the rats, and worked my heart out. Talk about "Be Here Now"!

Can you believe that I didn’t pass? Apparently, I hung out a little too long before I went down, and I missed by one and a half seconds. Time is just a concept after all, isn’t it? Humans do miss the point a lot.

The ride home from Moses Lake was long, and they still wouldn’t let me ride on the dashboard. Snorting those vents had been a highlight of the trip—the traveling part, anyway. Now I know the word "rat" better than any word in the English language (though Maggie gets pretty excited when you say "food" or "cookie" or "eat.") And we always get such a good reaction when we cock our heads in that endearing way that we do.

As soon as I got into our house, I ran out through the dog door into the back yard to announce that I was home. I was happy to discover that my voice resonated as well as it ever had, and no one had bothered to fill in my beloved holes, the projects on which I had worked so hard. There had been major root removal involved here! Still there was work to do, and I had to keep those darned moles out of the yard. They all live next door now.

Life went on as usual for about a month. Maggie and I would chase the huge ball in the back yard, and I continued to take pride in my beautiful collection of holes. Some of them were so deep that I could almost disappear into them. Sometimes when the humans would come outside with me, I’d head straight to the current one and commence work again. I mean, I couldn’t let them think I had idle paws. (The work of the devil, right?)

It was June. To get to the next trial in Hillsboro, we only had to drive about an hour. Since it was only my mom and me, I had to ride in the crate and didn’t get the experience of inhaling the cool, refreshing air from the car vents. Maggie stayed home. I overheard my mom telling my dad that my sister was "a remedial Earthdog." I guess that’s a nice way of saying that she pretty much sucked at this.

I got to do Intro again. I really wowed them this time, and once again, I had to be dragged away from the rats. There is something very heady about the smell of rat pee. This was a pretty cool trial because I wasn’t the only Cairn terrier there. Also there were my brother Haggis, my Great Aunt Barley, three dudes named Brownie, Chuckie and Teddy, a couple of bitches named Dana and Holly, my sister Gracie, my cousin Patty and this amazing girl, Lacey.

I had finally and really truly arrived. I zipped through those tunnels. I barked, I screamed, I rocked! These were two days of beautiful weather and always rats at the end of the tunnel. And on Sunday, I did something that surprised my mom. I got my first Senior Earthdog leg. No one was more amazed than I was when I actually came when my mom called me. I must have been under a spell or something. That weekend I got three rosettes. Well, my mom did. After all, what was I going to do with them? One of the best things, though, was that one of the judges was one of my favorite people, Joyce Moore from Colorado.

We Cairns really kicked butt. Lacey and Chuckie got their Senior Earthdogs, Brownie and I got our Junior Earthdogs, my bro Haggis got a Junior leg, and a bunch of others had good Intro runs. Life was blissful.

Next month we went to Monroe, Washington. Maggie came with us this time. It was incredibly hot there. The steam was rising off the grass in the field. The people were really nice though. Maggie actually passed Intro. Now, that was a shocker! But she was the last one to be tested, and they wouldn’t let her sign up for Junior because the entries closed before she finished. My brother, Haggis, passed Junior that day, but none of us trying for Senior went down the tunnel. Too hot! Plus there were some irresistible smells, and of course, the guys all had to let everyone know we’d been there by leaving appropriate "calling cards."

We stayed in this really strange motel in nearby Bothell. It was like no one around there allowed pets except for this place. The owners thought we were kind of cute, though, and visited us in our room and played with us for a bit. Our room had these funky stained shag carpets, these really crummy fans, and it was hotter than blazes there. Maggie, Mom and I stayed right next to where these people had this cat tethered outside their door. The cat kept walking over to where our room was and started taunting us under the window. I barked my head off, but the cat didn’t seem to give a rip. Maybe it was deaf. And it was so panting hot that Maggie kept crawling under the bed to find shade. I stayed by the fan where my mom kept putting wet washcloths on me and on Maggie—when she’d come out. We didn’t sleep well that night. Dad was smart to stay home in the air-conditioning. That night, we watched the Olympic divers on TV, and that was torture! Even though swimming (and certainly diving) is not my favorite activity, a pool filled with cool fresh water did sound pretty good.

The next day was also hot and muggy, and by the time they got to Senior, it was really, really, really scorching hot. Quite honestly, this was the last place I wanted to be. I preferred to stay above ground and take in the irresistible odors placed in strategic locations throughout the den area. No human being will ever know what that fragrance was that was more important that the smell of the hole was, and I most certainly will not be the one to tell.

Fortunately there was this tub of ice water close by that we could soak our feet in from time to time when we weren’t running in trials. But all in all, it was another bust! One Senior qualified the whole weekend—and that was by the judge’s discretion. By mistake, she pulled the rats out and the dog followed them, so they didn’t have to do the recall… One interesting thing was that they had a Miniature Bull Terrier, and she actually fit down the tunnel and worked like a fiend. That was enough to put us Cairns to shame. I couldn’t wait to ride home in the air-conditioned car and drink gallons of icy water.

It was going to be almost a whole other year later before we could go to another Earthdog trial, but we had an interesting visit to Larry’s sister, Aunt Lynn in Monroe. Her place was amazing! She and Uncle Michael had kids, but more importantly they had a WHOLE ROOM OF RODENTS: guinea pigs, rats and rabbits. It was like we were in some kind of dream. Lynn was really nice and very curious about the work that we Earthdogs do. Maggie was even getting back in touch with her primal instincts. She told me later that if she had been given maybe ten more minutes, she could have liberated all the rodents from their cages, and we could have had this amazing free-for-all. She was really working at that latch on the rat cage.

We spent a lot of the time in an ex-pen in Aunt Lynn’s kitchen. Larry was afraid that I would pee throughout Lynn’s beautiful, immaculate house, and I can’t say I blamed him. This place was incredible unclaimed territory.

Aunt Lynn had an idea. How about if she let one of the rats out in the kitchen so that he could lay a scent trail? Then the rat would go back into his cage in The Amazing Museyroom of Rodents. After he was safely there, we would be released from the ex-pen and follow the scent trail laid down by the rat. Well, that sounded like fun; so of course we were game. The rat could be the Object of the Game.

An astonishing thing occurred. After Aunt Lynn set him down, the rat made a straight line directly towards us, and I saw a side of my sister I’d never seen before. When I started to lunge for the rat, she practically attacked me first. SHE wanted the rat first, but Aunt Lynn scooped the rat up before it got to us, so neither of us got the kill. I suspect that this rat was either a masochist or mentally ill. Or maybe we looked so fierce and our teeth so big that he thought it was inevitable that we’d get him and he simply wanted to get it over with. He was returned to his cage again, and that was probably a good thing for him because this little sucker was clearly a danger to himself. He should be on a twenty-four-hour suicide watch. So now back in the security of his cage fortunately for him, all the sharp objects were either out of reach or in our mouths.

Even so, we had a very good time. Maybe one day Maggie would be an Earthdog, too. Perhaps all she’s suffering from is test anxiety. She claims it’s because she thinks it’s all a phony set-up, but a lot of times those with insecurities make up silly excuses like that. She thinks too much.

(Re) Call of the Wild

We were going to Moses Lake again. Cool. My mom and dad and human brother Noah, who was 12, were taking my sister and me there. The weather was gorgeous, and I just had a good feeling about it. Maggie wasn’t going to run in the trials this time. Instead she got a lot of walks from Larry and Noah and tried to distract me while I was working. She told me if I started to screw up, she’d get to eat my dinner for a whole week. And she would have done that, too. Needless to say, I did just fine. In fact, I was just brilliant. Modest, too.

The recall in Seniors isn’t as bad as they say it is. After all, tunnels do get a little boring when there’s no rat. After I’ve worked, they remove the rat, and then my mom has to call me from the den, and I have 90 seconds till she has me in her arms. The first day, I startled my mom by coming back in six seconds. I was triumphant, and I got treated like I was Leonardo DiCaprio or whoever the latest movie stud is. It was like all these people (mostly female) were in love with me. My dad was proud of me, too, but he didn’t act quite so gushy. The next day, I took my time. I like suspense and drama as much as the next guy, so I came out 78.09 seconds after Mom called me. A game of keep away might have been fun at that juncture, but it was enough simply knowing that I was the one calling the shots. This is one sport where there’s nothing in the world a HUMAN can do to make it work.

I was now a Senior Earthdog. I asked Maggie to bow down to me, but she told me to cut the crap. She has this way of always bringing me back down to earth.

They still didn’t let me ride on the dashboard when the car was movingL

In June, we had lots of houseguests. McCork, this little red dude, and his humans, Dawn and John stayed at our house. So did Jerrie and her dog, Riley. Riley thinks he’s tough, but I needed to show him whose house it was anyway. Maggie seemed to like Riley better than me, and I didn’t like it ONE BIT. The humans were getting on my case a lot, too about being a lousy host, and I spent a little more time on my back than I wanted to.

At Hillsboro, the first time I did Masters, I was braced with that cute Cairn bitch named Lacey. We were the first pair to run. I ran with Lacey through this vast field. I thought about visiting with all the folks standing up on this mound watching but reconsidered and followed Lacey down to the den. The fake den was only a little interesting, so we went to the real one. Lacey got to the entrance first, so I had to wait while she got to work the rats. I was wonderful. I even managed to keep my mouth shut while I was waiting ("honoring" is what they call it), and that was HARD, too. Success! I liked being in the first brace because the den is so fresh with the bouquet of rat pee and not with the stupid-smelling pee of other dogs. That way, I didn’t have to moonlight as a Professional Urine Dispenser. The den was mine (and Lacey’s), and that is how I got my first Masters leg.

Later that day, Aunt Barley did another great sprinting time but didn’t stick around with the rats. My brother Haggis ALMOST got a Senior leg, but he liked it underground so much that he wouldn’t come back to Brad, his dad. The next day, with his flare for the climactic, Haggis stopped the show with his grand exit. Just in the nick of time for a first Senior leg! Little McCork qualified in Intro and so did Riley. (But boy, there sure are a lot of Dachshunds in the world!)

The next day, I didn’t go first. This cool miniature longhaired Dachshund named Elvis was my brace mate. Elvis is a fun-loving guy, but man, does he like to yak! We actually got along pretty well. We walked down to the den, but this time I stuck a little closer to my mom. We did the usual sniffing at the entrance, and "The King of Rock and Roll" went first. I waited very patiently and didn’t bark. When it was my turn, I headed toward the entrance and went down, but The King’s voice rang out. Did the rats escape? Was there a party going on up there? What would I miss? I was determined not to miss the festivities, so I came back out to see what was shakin’ with The King. Then I decided to make a run for it, like a quarterback on fire. I wasn’t going to pass anyway, so I might as well see how far I could run. My mom ran after me, but it was McCork’s mom, Dawn who ultimately made the tackle. She should play for the Pack.

It was rainy and cold in Turner, Oregon in September, and my parents, Maggie, and I stayed in our camper in this apple orchard. The fun thing about the camper is that I get to jump up onto the big bed on top, and my mom always feels so guilty about me and Maggie being all cooped up and claustrophobic that she takes us for a lot of walks.

The air was vibrant and filled with the scent of --GIRLS.

It rained and rained, but we were going to have a trial anyway. The den area was a good walk from the orchard but not too far. There was a pumpkin patch right next to it and what looked like acres of land. It was very pretty out there. I didn’t get braced with Lacey. I REALLY wanted to run with her again, but it just wasn’t going to happen. Instead, Stetson, a dapper looking wirehaired Dachshund, was my partner. Off we went toward the den. Anything interesting, I had to autograph. I put my John Hancock on pretty much anything that stood vertical to the ground, from blades of grass, to mounds of dirt, to weeds, bushes, and trees. The judge said something to my mom, and she looked kind of dismayed. It turns out I was disqualified for over-peeing. Can you believe that? A couple of times were acceptable, she said, but I wasn’t supposed to be a one-dog irrigation crew. Honestly, I don’t know that I could have helped it because there were these bitches around and I KNOW that they would have welcomed my attentions. I had to stake my claim on them, and the only way I know to get the message across is to lift a leg to salute the entire universe. They did let me go into the tunnel, and I did, but there was this damn obstruction in the way. The call it "the root." It was big; in fact, it was monumental, so I came out again to assess my options. Game over.

The next day was rainy again. Again Stetson and I were picked to run together. This time we had to start in the middle of the pumpkin patch. It was weird. There were pumpkins on the vines and we had to jump over them. It was like some kind of surrealistic agility course. I didn’t lift my leg quite as much this time since my mom took me on this incredibly long walk, and frankly, there really wasn’t a whole lot left. Stetson found the entrance first and I honored. Not too badly, if I say so myself. When it was my turn, I entered, but the blasted obstruction was still there! Maybe if I came up, the next time I went down, the thing would dissolve. It was there at my first Masters trial, insists Lacey (who just earned her Masters), but I honestly don’t remember it. She advised me that next time, I shouldn’t even think of it. Just think of the rat. The problem was that lately I was thinking of rats less and girls more.

In Kent, Washington, we stayed at this place I can only call a resort. It was perfect. There’s a huge yard, dog runs, and lots of trees, ground squirrels, and an Earthdog Trial. We stayed overnight. My mom, Maggie and I stayed in a room with a really comfortable futon. It was very low to the ground, but I alternated sleeping under it with sleeping on top with Mom and Maggie.

The next morning I would get to try another Master’s Leg. I got braced with a Border Terrier named Willy. Mom was a little concerned that I wouldn’t behave. I went over to Willy to visit, and he did not like me getting in his face. Mom thought that I might piss him off and we’d fight, but I was too interested in all the nose stimulation around me. Besides, I am capable of being a perfect gentleman when I put my mind to it. We approached the den; it was not hard to find. Willy pointed out the entrance first, and I followed. I was first to honor. It wasn’t too bad; I managed to get by with just a few "woofs" in anticipation of the rats. Willy didn’t have any problem. Next it was my turn. My mom intoned the traditional "Get the rats" phrase and down I went. Everyone waited. I went through the tunnel but I got to that big old obstacle again. I mean, this was a MONOLITH, so I figured that I’d better start digging under it to get at the rats. Well, this was definitely very painstaking work, and the darn thing wasn’t going anywhere at all, so I left the tunnel to rethink my options. "When in doubt, survey the hunting grounds." Ah—the smells, the sights! I’ll figure it out—tomorrow. The problem was, though, that this was just a one-day trial.

My mom lifted me up and my stomach was totally covered with dirt. She put me in my crate, which became terribly dusty and dirty too. Yuck.

Maggie did Intro again, this time really doing it sotto voce. But she managed to keep whispering for 30 seconds, so she passed. In Junior, she got there on time, but "cooed" to the rats for only 10 seconds. Later she told me that she thought the rats were sleeping or under anesthesia or maybe they were even artificial rats. It fact when she was practicing later, she had NO interest in the rats at all. She said that was so much good grazing there that she completely ignored them. Maybe if they had brought in a wolverine or something, that might have caught her fancy.

Then I got to practice. Jean, the human who judged Masters set that weird gigantic root piece in the middle of the tunnel. Then she put the rat cage (with rats in it, of course) directly in front of it. Ah ha! A light went off in my head. The mystery of the big white obstacle was finally unraveled for me. I had over-thought the whole process and pumped soil to get past it. All I had to do was go OVER the top of it and to get there. We tried it three times, and I now I get it. It is a lot like the image of a brick wall that is actually only a projection on a flimsy screen.

There are just so many ways you can fail the Master Earthdog tests! There is over-peeing, not finding entrance, those darned obstacles and constrictions, pulling up the stake when honoring, and many more that I haven’t even tried yet. Then there is also the triumph of getting it all together. But pass or fail, it really makes little difference to me.

For the third time, we went to Moses Lake. That meant we got to see Penny, the little chubby Dachshund. At Penny’s house, there was a little frapping here and there, vying for attention and other light entertainment. And there were hours of TV watching. For me that means interactive TV. Those primates on PBS drive me wild! And SOMEBODY has to put a stop to that Pillsbury Doughboy before he tries to conquer the world. How about me?

On the first day, my bracemate was a buff young Border Terrier named Corki. I wasn’t sure about him, but after we got to know each other a bit, things were fine. When we were out of the judge’s sight and that of many of the spectators, we had a little peeing contest going on. I won. And then there weird dead bird that I just HAD to sniff, but all was well. I indicated the hole, worked like a pro and I got my second Masters leg complete with all the psychotic cooing and outpourings of affection that I’ve come to expect from my mom.

The next day was rainy, and they made some changes from the previous day’s setup. The approach was fine, and I did find the den, but then I caught a whiff of the rats in a gentle gust of wind. The perfume was coming from a large metal drum off to the side a bit. There were RATS inside of it. Eureka! I had discovered the MOTHERLODE!
I kept leaping high and higher. If only my mom had given me another minute or so, I might have been able to join them in the barrel. But then she grabbed me, and that was that. I am not sure why, but after this episode, there was not a whole lot of cooing or babbling. To use a human expression, the silence was deafening. My mom did hug me, but some of the enthusiasm was missing.

After my dubious success, my brother Haggis got his first Masters leg, proving once again that we have superior genes. Both Aunt Barley and Cousin Rosebud were pretty hot on Saturday, too. Aunt Biscuit ran in Intro, too. This girl runs like a zephyr! Above ground, anyway. I think Maggie might be a mutant.

In Portland, there were another two opportunities to work the rats. My sister, Maggie, stayed home. This was MY hour of glory. The first day, the ground was fresh; no dogs had trodden here before. I had it made in the shade. I was braced with a cool Wire-haired Dachshund named Buster. It was all right with both of us. This guy looked pretty serious. In fact, most of these guys have a slightly concerned look on their faces, but they are fairly easy going. Buster was a serious hunter. I had to let them all know that Kilroy had been there. Right off the bat, I decided to mark the perimeters of the hunting grounds. This included the fairground sign, which displayed the words "Earthdog Trials." (Yes, I can read!) Buster found the hole first and then I stuck my head in. My mom told me that we were going to get to go for the rats, so I saw no point in pretending that I was a greased pig and running away when she grabbed me. It was hard to contain myself while Buster got to scream and dig his head off. I shrieked a few times, but then I just lay down and cooled my jets. Soon it would be my turn. That had been my experience.

Buster waited patiently while I went down the hole. About ten seconds passed, and I decided to pop my head out again. It was pretty boring and quiet out there, so what the heck? I turned about and squeezed back in. I think I heard my mom sigh. There I was—Rat Nirvana!!!! Rats in all their rodential splendor. I barked and growled in reverence. I was at one with my purpose. (I think that this is actually pretty close to what humans call an epiphany.)

Some other Cairns ran in Masters: Lacey; she is the Goddess of Earthdog trials—and a good friend (platonic, of course). Then there was Chuckie. During his run he got the munchies. There was an observation deck where all these people sat gawking at us as though these trials were some sort of great big spectacle. Anyway, I think that Chuck KNEW exactly where the muffin was and couldn’t pass up the opportunity for free food. So up he ran, grabbed the muffin (I think it was poppy seed, so it’s a good thing that they don’t do mandatory drug testing at these trials), scarfed it down and then headed back to the den. Chuck became all business again and did what he’d done so many times before. He is a very lucky guy. His mom lets him run at lots and lots of trials. My mom already told me that after I got my title, that would be pretty much it. What a cheapskate!

My brother, Haggis, decided that freedom was the order of the day. He ran about two or three braces after I did. His partner was the Border dude named Willy, who I ran with at Puget Sound. Haggis was enjoying his freedom, the great grassy field that led to the "racetrack" that led to places far and wide. He felt the wind in his fur and for the moment took him away from matters at hand. Maybe that’s why sometimes people refer to him as "Thrill of the Chase." Finally someone tackled him and back he went to the den where he was first to honor and last to work. But Haggis is a workaholic and did what serious Earthdogs do best and loudest.

My cousin Rosebud became a Junior Earthdog that day. My Great Aunt Barley got her first Junior leg. Now that was cause for celebration. She used to just sprint, reach the rat and then chirp "See ya later." But this time she stayed and worked. Does that mean that there is hope for my sister, Maggie? Probably not.

The same weekend, I had this houseguest, Lizzie. She is very pretty and I think she knows it, too. She is the biggest flirt. She is also this incredible huntress. At her home in the country, she’s bagged birds, voles, mice, rabbits, squirrels and skunks. She’s a regular Annie Oakley but without the gun. You never would think that something so cute and feminine could be so, well… LETHAL. Anyway, she got her JE that day, too.

The next day, I got to work with Ernie, this extremely mellow red smooth Standard Dachshund. Ernie was slightly cautious and maybe a bit freaked. Yesterday, some Norfolk chap basically went ballistic on him for no apparent reason, so I thought it was best to give him some space. I wanted him to know that ALL terriers are not alike. So off we ran. I carefully marked the boundaries again and headed to the den. I indicated the entrance and then Ernie did the same, but the judge wanted me to show her again, this time more convincingly. So I obliged. Then I waited while Ernie went down first. I really wanted my turn to come, and I let out a few shrieks and a bark here and there, though not too many. I knew that I had to contain myself. I lay down again, took some deep pants and relaxed.

My turn. Down the hole went I! Briefly, I remembered the root and how it had been such a problem for me. Now it was easy. Now it was ALL easy. I was the Express Concorde Silver Bullet Mach 2000 Super Train. I barked and growled at the rats. I was a canine Luciano Pavarotti, and they interrupted my aria after a mere 90 seconds. Bravo! Bravo! I wanted to do an encore, but my mom was just holding me and hugging me. J

Just like that, it was over.

I got my picture taken with Lacey and Chuckie, the two other Cairns in the whole world that were Master Earthdogs. Here we were, the first three ME Cairns in the whole universe. This is heady stuff all right! We were three pioneers. Others would follow, but we were here first.

@Copyright Jill Arnel 1999