Photosession

Last week I finally got the pics from a photosession we did at the beginning of November. My friend's boyfriend volunteered to be the photographer and I didn't exactly resist with a chain saw… The day was beautiful, but unfortunately the model wasn't – Sambo had his late-summer coat, which means that on most of the pics he looks like a moth-eaten brown hyena, but that's ok. I'm very grateful to Rok for the pics and I'm already planning a new session soon (now that the nigger is finally back to black, as it should be).






The prettiest look in Europe...



A bit of agility




A bit of IPO







Work over!



And my personal favourite

Nothing shockingly new in Groenenland. On Saturday we went to the Christmas agility trial where Sambo's neurosis went loose after a long abstinence crisis. Well, he definitely showed that he is in shape, that agility can always be fun and that it is even better to yodel in halls as it echos more . I wouldn't exactly brag with the results, but to my solace only 3 out of about 30 handler-dog teams managed to complete both runs without a disqualification. Anywho, we had lots of fun, chatted with agility friends after a long time and had a nice day, so we're all looking forward to the next winter trials.

Moreover we started clicking regularly again and have a few tricks in process right now, hopefully they will be soon perfected. And on Saturday I saw my webmaster and he promised he would update the site soon, so now I'm preparing the new material so we can revive the site again.

And to finish, two pics of the preparations for my birthday gathering:

My two little helpers



And Olaf with a dog on his back (my friend's 2 year-old daughter saw Olaf jump on Sambo's back before and obviously after a few minutes thought that it's payback time, so when I turned around I saw Olaf with an accessory – he didn't mind much…)

Haaaappy biiirthdaaaaay toooo meeee...

So it has come upon me too. Fully and inevitable. Yep, no kidding, every year I'm a year older than the previous one. Fascinating, don't you think? Well, generally I don't have any problems with different standards, be it racial, beauty, age or something else, but still the other day, in a moment of weakness, I thought a bit and said to my special someone, half kidding, half being serious, that when I was a little girl I always dreamed that at this age I would be a pretty, long-legged successful blonde with a bunch of animals around her. Being such a nice guy he said that I got everything perfectly right, and added quietly that I just miscalculated a bit with my legs…

Anywho, I had a very nice day. For a nice beginning the nigger and I went for a walk, then I did a little weight-lifting, after which I went to say hello to Zaja (there was so much rain during the weekend that it wasn't possible to go riding in the woods). And in the evening, a new achievement – my first pizza. And certainly not the last. I left the dough to rise and in the meantime the Black Death and I went to test my B-day present – running pants and a running 'damen flisjacke', so both of us deserved dinner after half an hour of sweating. Sambo had to be satisfied with doggy kibble while I got to try my pizza. It turned out to be great, I'm really proud of myself. It seems that this year's birthday theme is ACTION because while the pizza was cooling I received another portion of presents – a ski cap, a ticket for Krvavec (the nearest ski slope to Ljubljana) and a sport anorak jacket for rainy doggy walks and running adventures. Holy cow, this year I'm gonna get so fit that the 25 maybe won't even catch me! :)

Okay, now off to new adventures, I'm going to our clicking session with Sambo. Over and out.

Today was an interesting day. Like most Tuesdays, Sambo and I went for a riding tour, had a great workout there, and after that I finally managed to get myself to the vet with our malign bird. No, there's nothing wrong with him, thank God, but he had to have his talons shortened. This bold venture is not to be set about at home, because there I have only two options: either I choose to shorten mine and his tortures and do it quickly, which means that after 5 min he has his nails done and I have all my fingers in a state as if I had put them in a meat-grinding machine, or I take my time and do it in 10 min and he chews on only ¾ of my fingers. My folks at home are completely useless – my mom doesn't dare to touch him even with a stick, my father doesn't give a damn about his talons, while Gregor actually makes an effort, but we still don't always manage to do an optimal job. So I decided to pay a visit to my dear vet after a long time.

The start wasn't very promising. The bird didn't feel like going out of the cage, so he mauled my left hand for a start, but then he saw I was serious and accepted my reaching hand. Once we got to the car it was a whole different story. He is a roadtrip maniac at least as big as Sambo and he started singing and whistling even before we left our yard. So we came to the clinic and entered the waiting room where we had to wait about 15 min. To my great surprise Čompo was completely relaxed, he combed his feathers and even whistled at Marko the technician when he passed by (he was probably reading my mind). Finally it was our turn, we entered and when I saw the vet's inquisitive look I told him that I brought our harpy for a pedicure. This time the procedure was much more successful than the first (and only) time, when I didn't know exactly how to hold Čompo so he half disentangled out of my grip halway through the procedure and stroke towards the vet, who barely dodged the bite. At that moment Čompo started to laugh at him and the vet, who probably though he was already being delirious, asked me if my bird is actually laughing at him by any chance. I could only shrug my shoulders and told him he was correct. Anywho, as already said this time everything went on swimmingly, the first foot was done in a minute, after which we gave him a short break because he struggled against my grip so hard that he almost twisted his head for 360 degrees. After a minute we managed to do the other nailjob as effectively as the first one and the mission was completed with success. To my great astonishment the bird (who was tousled as if I had put him in the spin-drier) let himself be petted and touched after all this trauma, first by the vet and then by the assistant. On principle he doesn't have any big difficulties in piercing someone, so I was really suprised by his model behaviour. Now I know that I definitely won't torture myself anymore with his pedicure, but will take him to the vet as soon as his claws reach the limit (well, and the fact that my vet makes Bon Jovi look like the president of a chess club doesn't hurt…).

Secondly, Sambo and I started clicking after a long time. The weather was more or less rainy and morbid the last few days, so appart from the doggie-walks it isn't all that nice to be outside. So we started with tricks and clicks again and Sambo is thrilled. I have a few new skills in mind and we already started training them, while the other nigger watchfully observes us. Soon his time will come too…

Fable about the Goat and the Ass

Once upon a time there was a little Grasshopper. She was small and vivacious, she had short, but strong legs and once a month she devastated everything near and far in search for food, as it befits such creatures. But let's not focus now on that as it has no part in our story. Her best friend was the Wolf. On a cold winter morning the two of them went for a walk, like they did every morning. The day was beautiful. The trees put on a thin white mantle that melted during the day and the morning haze rose from the ground like a transparent veil through which the friendly morning sun was already shining. The Grasshopper and the Wolf walked acrossed the field and decided to go to the Hill nearby after a while. They arrived to the top puffing and happy and soon they a herd of deer greeted them. A bit further some ibex and chamois noded them hello and at the end the Grasshopper and the Wolf saw the Linx too, but he didn't say anything as he was just having breakfast and was obviously well educated, because he didn't even greet in return with his mouth full but just flicked his ear in their direction.

The Wolf ran around, all excited, while the Grasshopper was enjoying the fresh air and was looking forward to the well deserved breakfast (the Grasshopper is a grasshopper after all). The two friends were fairly close to their home already when they saw the Goat from afar. The Goat had the Pig with her, as usually. The Pig actually wasn't all that bad, but the problem is that the Goat takes care of him. That means that the Pig romps and jumps around like goats do and is never clean while at it. Furthermore, goats have the nasty habit of butting into others. Yes, the Pig took that habit too. But the Grasshopper, being an eternal optimist, hoped that that time things would be different. Unfortunately she reckoned wrong. They were walking towards each other and the Goat and the Grasshopper greeted. At that time the Pig came running, jumped on the Wolf and almost cut him in half. The Wolf rebuked the Pig and drove him away, which made the Pig turn to the Grasshopper. He was three metres before her when he leaped from the ground and flew directly towards her. The Grasshopper stretched out her front feet, hoping that would stop him, but she failed. The Pig twisted her finger, almost knocked her down and treaded her down completely. Finally the Grasshopper managed to get him off; instantly, the Pig went around her behind her back and jumped on her again. Everybody knows that Pigs are bigger and heavier than Grasshoppers and these two were no different. The Grasshopper barely managed to stay on her feet. At last, she lost her nerves, she took the Pig by the neck and told him she had it with him and she wanted to be left alone. The Pig jumped on his feet and propelled onto the Wolf, who was tired of being treaded on too and gave him a good ticking off. But the Pig is a pig and if he is under the govern of a Goat it can't be good. The Grasshopper decided she had enough of being treated that bad. She greeted the Goat politely, though a bit ill-humouredly and the Goat greeted in return, but didn't apologize. She's a goat, what can you do. The Grasshopper and the Wolf continued their journey home, alleviated that they shook off the rude, unpleasant company, and were happily humming to themselves after a minute.

But the happiness didn't last long. It was only a few minutes later that the Grasshopper saw the Ass with the Bull from a distance. She wasn't exactly looking forward to this encounter either because they had met once or twice before. The Bull is, as most bulls, big, strong and likes to swagger and show off. And the Ass is, what else, an ass. The last time they met the Bull pounced on the Wolf and, bristled all over, stopped only a few metres before him. The Ass ran after him and tried to catch him, but he couldn't and started yelling to the Grasshopper and the Wolf that they should go away. To tell truth neither the Grasshopper nor the Wolf felt the Bull was that bad, his biggest problem was that his master was a real Ass. Anyways, this time the Ass saw the Wolf and the Grasshopper in time and tied the Bull. But we all know how it goes – where the Bull heads, the Ass follows. The Bull went left and right and the Ass followed him whenever he went, he only jerked him every now and then so his pride didn't suffer too much. The Grasshopper told the Wolf to stay near her and only greet politely to avoid any conversation, as unpleasant as the one with the Goat and the Pig. So the friends were walking side by side on the path and politely greeted the Ass, who had retreated to the margin of the path with the Bull. It seems that the Ass was taught his manners at the same place the Goat had because he didn't even return the greeting. Instead he hee-hawed to the Grasshopper if she could educate the Bull as well as she did the Wolf. The Grasshopper jokignly responded that she would if she was well repayed. The Ass was enraptured with the answer and asked her how could they agree upon the matter. The Grasshopper stopped for a second, looking at the Bull and she actually felt sorry for him because his only company is an ass. Thereupon she answered that she was only joking, but the Ass started convincing her to take the offer. The Grasshopper had enough of it and told the Ass: ''You see, you can give me the Bull and I can make an effort and educate him as well as I did the Wolf, but what good could that do to him, as he will then again be lead by an ass.'' The Ass hee-hawed in laughter and tapped the Bull, who was looking at the Wolf and the Grasshopper more and more sadly and yearningly, on the head. The Grasshopper knew it was best to say goodbye, s she greeted them, beckoned the Wolf and they headed off.

Back at home they saw they were both dirty from the Pig and the Grasshopper's finger was hurting more and more by the minute. The Wolf licked her swollen hand in sympathy and then the Grasshopper made them both breakfast. Theiy were soon again in a good mood, but still they couldn't help themselves but to remember the regardlessness and bad manners of others. But what could they do, that's the way things go and the Grasshopper and the Wolf both hope that a lot of time will pass before their next meeting.

As you all know every fable has its moral. And what is the moral of this present fable? I don't know. Maybe that the encounter with a dirty Pig and and a Bull that is full of … himself is unpleasant only if they are guided by an irresponsible Goat and a real Ass.

The end

Wax on, wax off

You probably wonder about the rason for today's title. The truth is that last time I felt like Karate Kid when I was painting the boards for the fence. For the fence of the new house of my significant other, so that my significantly hairy other won't have too many problems with the neighbour's flea bag. Sambo has already taken a look at the new property and approved it. Of course he also vigilantly inspected my painting job and also our raising of the fence. And says that he's quite content. But to tell the truth it's quite tiring to equip and renovate the new den. It took us about a working day of hours to find suitable ceramic tiles for the bathroom and we spent a week chasing around the stairs for the attic throughout the whole city – at first they were the cheapest in the first store, a bit more expensive in the second and almost double in price in the third one, then they miraculously raised in price in the first one and so they were cheapest in the second store, and then… Anywho, the compromise has been made and the Stairway to (fitness) heaven is waiting in the future living room, while the fitness equipment will have to wait a while. Well, it's not like we don't exercise enough, at least while we're still erecting fences, tearing down walls etc, and the black neurosis takes care of my figure 24/7 anyway. And talking about the devil – on Tuesday we went riding again after two weeks of pause; I still have all my muscles sore while the black monster barely warmed up after two hours. I try to tell myself that when I'll be his age I'll be just as fit as he is. Yeah, right…

Today's post is more human than canine, but that's ok (and people are often more bitchy than any dog, male or female, anyway). We are all having a great time these days, the human ones, the canine one, the bird, the wabbit and the fishy ones – they have no comment, as usually, but I'm sure they're peachy too.

I wish you to have a great time too – for the last few days my mood has been up also due to Queen; they always seem to fit any situation, but these days I'm particularly nostalgic towards them, especially towards Freddie. Freddie, it's been a while since you're not around anymore, but there's still lots of us who love to listen toyou :).

On the road again...

A few years ago the World Championship for Belgian shepherds was held in De Haan, Belgium and a week before the event my friend, also a Belgian fanatic, asked me – What if we go to Belgium? And we went! She, her dog, my mom and I. we had a fabulous time and Belgium enraptured us as a country of of a beautiful landscape, marvellous houses and friendly people. Since then I have been waiting for a chance to go back, this time with Sambo. Last year, after the world dog show, I heard from some people that every year a wonderful show is held in Kortrijk, one of the biggest in Europe, and when this year I saw the entry form and found out that Belgian shepherds also have a specialty show I finally found my excuse. The decision was made, we are going to Belgium.

DAY ONE – LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOW, LET IT SNOOOW…

My two favourite boys (one more, one less hairy) and I set out on our journey on Thursday at around 8 am. Gregor drove, so I could enjoy the increasingly white landscape as we came into Austria.



I soon was able to admire this year's first snowflakes as it started to snow with tiny, romantic snowflakes. The thing is that after a few kilometres all the romanticism was gone, it actually became quite nasty because the snow already started to stick to the road and the traffic was just dense enough so that we had the windshield dirty non-stop, which can be lots of fun in a car with a busted water-spray for cleaning the windshield…



Luckily we made it to München without much trouble, but there the traffic became impossible because of the rush hour and the weather, which was still ugly-snowy. So we decided to go off the highway onto a regional road near Freisig and make a break for lunch and a bit of exercise. After the break I took over the driving and managed to get us, not with negligible pains (the traffic was unbelievable until we got on the highway again and the weather conditions were 3 times worse than before), to Koblenz, where we spent the night in Etap hotel. We did approximately 930 km so we looked forward to the next day when we had to travel 'only' about 400 km, most of it through Belgium.


A walk by a lake in Germany near the Belgian border

DAY TWO – HOME SWEET HOME

The second day we treated ourselves with a bit less early start because we had to travel a much smaller distance in much better conditions. We slowly went to the German-Belgian border and saw an obvious difference between the two countries already on the first gass station – instead of various bratwursts, knockwursts and similar sausageries the station was packed with waffles. Much better . We continued our way to Brussels with a big smile and turned South a bit before the capital. After a short search we finally came to Groenendael. But here we encountered a problem. We were supposed to meet with Uroš, Živa and Klark (our doggy friends with whom we migrated to Poland last year, but didn't travel together this time because they parted a week before us to go to the Stuttgart show) at the sign for Groenendael, but we couldn't find the sign. We found the castle, which is unfortunatelly just being renovated, so it is all steel-bars and sweaty workers, but we couldn't find the damn sign. In great desperation I turned for help to a very kind man in a hut by the castle, and meanwhile the other part of the Slovene expedition finally found us. We drove a bit further to a big parking by the lake and went to take pics by the sign, which of course was a big must. Yes, we found the sign at last, first we didn't see it because it stands only on the side of the road if you come from the other direction (and it says Groenendaal, to be precise).





After a snack Živa and I went for a walk with the dogs through the beautiful autumn forest and I have to admit it is definitely one of the nicest places I've ever been – surrounded by a green valley with small hillocks and typical old Belgian houses and arround the castle, an old forest with huge trees, a little lake and a river. I don't know if it was like this already 200 years ago, when the breed was created, but in any case it is absolutely beautiful now.








After a break in the woods of Groenendael we parted towards Wevelgem, a little town about 15 km from Kortrijk, where the show was organized. The B&B I reserved is managed by a friendly man named Gino and we stayed there for two days. But we faced another problem there too. Our room was in the third floor of the house and you had to climb three different sets of steps to go there. The first set had no 'back' so you could see through them and the last were very narrow and steep. And Sambo, as I have mentioned once before, quite the stairophobic. After two minutes I persuaded him to begin climbing the first stairs, but he changed his mind halfway and when he was turning to go down he slipped and his foot got stucked in the whole between two steps, so he was sort of left hanging. Not a very promising start, I would say. But then we somehow managed to get him out of that and Gregor carried him to the room. The following day Sambo pleasantly surprised me and after a brief moment of 'panic' and reluctance, he climbed all the stairs and even came down the second (most normal) ones. It seems that next time I'll have to check if the room is in the ground floor, otherwise he'll kill us all with his phobia… Anyhow, we made it our next stop and at night we all fell into our beds and started recovering and gathering strength for the next day.

DAY THREE – TO PEE OR NOT TO PEE, THAT IS THE QUESTION NOW

Saturday was no my day. It all started in the morning when Sambo and I went for a supershort walk because we were in a hurry and all Sambo did was pee a lot and nothing else. The six of us came together to the fair halls but then the guys left Živa and me there with the dogs and went looking for a car service to fix the headlight. We were only about halfway to the hall when Živa and I started looking at each other more and more often. The way to the hall was so well marked by what dogs with uncivilized owners left behind them that one could just close their eyes and be guided by the very pleasant smell… After a long wait we somehow made it into the first hall and we found the place where our specialty was to be held. Živa encamped herself and the dogs and I went to the registration table – where we found out that my entry was either not received or not accepted and they didn't inform me, either way, Sambo wasn't entered. Fortunately they were so kind that they entered him on the spot and added me to the list, so after a few very tense minutes Sambo was entered in champion class, where only a Dutch male held him company. Despite the slight regret that there is so little competition (there were 17 groens all together, just like in the european show in Zagreb, which is a lot for those conditions, but one would expect a slightly bigger participation on a specialty in Belgium) I was happy that we solved the problem about the entry, but since there weren't many dogs, I was now in a hurry to prepare myself and Sambo for the show (go to the wc, water myself and Sambo and take Sambo out to pee). So I left Živa in our camp and rushed to the wc, from where a woman in her 30ies ousted me, screaming, because I didn't have 40 cents with me. I tried to tell her that I'm in a hurry and that I'll bring the money later, but the Cerberus she was didn't let me. So I went back, shared my indignation with Živa and wanted at least to take Sambo out. This plan failed too – they didn't let us out, instead they directed us to the 'dog wc', which in practice meant: go out to a fenced 10x10 piece of parking place, where there are two truck parked for a better atmosphere and try to convince your dog to do his business on asphalt that had only so much clean surface that you could go to the fence and back. I'm not sure who was more disgusted there, us or the dogs, either way none of them did anything. So both Sambo and I waited for better times to come (and they came only late in the evening…).

Anyway, soon the guys joined us again and after a few hours we finally lived to see our turn. You can imagine that neither of us was in a peachy mood (because of the dry air in the hall I had to drink a good deal of water and so did Sambo, and we all now how it feels if you have to go and can't…). Moreover, after the first round we saw that the surface was very slippery (there was a carpet only through the middle of the ring, which doesn't help you much if you are running in circles), so to be honest, Sambo didn't present himself as well as usually. We were second but weren't disappointed because of it. The organization of the specialty was very good, the staff kind and proffesional, but a big reprimand goes to the organizer of the whole show (the hygiene level was a catastrophe, the ground surface in that hall very slippery and the carpet unfunctional). Still, it was nice to be a part of a specialty, meet a few new people and chat with old acquaintances, and to finish, we got a very nice trophy. After we finished we went cheering for Uroš and Klark, after which we finally went to do some windowshopping on the show. We had to wait for our trophy until late in the evening, we got home only at around 8 am. and left the dogs there to rest while we went to dinner. Which we waited for 2 hours. As I said at the beginning, Saturday was not my day, after 12 hours of waiting for the wc I waited for another 2 hours to get my first bite of food. Looking on the bright side we were in good company, so we were still in a good mood and a bit after midnight the tiring day finally ended.

DAY FOUR – GOOD EVENING, WE'RE HERE

This day started with a walk on the field nearby that Uroš and Klark had discovered the previous day. The dogs ran like crazy and we breathed the fresh morning air and despite the low temperatures we warmed ourselves while marching on the field and admiring the nice landscape (and the huge Belgian sheep that looked at us fixedly, I swear they have heads the size of a bear's). After breakfast the other half of the Slovene expedition set out home while Gregor, Sambo and I went to the show once more. We decided to come there at around 11 because we knew there were about 40 dogs before us. This was a very wise decision as, unlike the first day, there wasn't any crowd at the entrance at all, so we could pass through to our ring much faster and less stressful than the day before. We encamped round the corned, by the italian-dutch camp of our agility colleague Sandra and her friends. This time a French man was the judge and after seeing the judging of two classes of tervuerens I looked forward to a quicker judging and a quicker end. That day was the first time I entered Sambo into veteran class, so the already minimal nervousness was even smaller. While Sambo rested in the box we went to take a look at other interesting breed, after which we took Sambo to an empty ring nearby and played a bit with him. Finally our turn was approaching and we waited close to the entrance of the ring because I noticed that the ring steward wasn't the most experienced and resourceful. Soon our time came, the judge petted Sambo, took a look at him and sent us to run a few rounds. Unlike the previous day we were both in a much better mood and Sambo was back, being his good old usual self with a constant smile on his face and the tempo of a juvenile. The judge was enthusiastic and was happy to give us an excellent grade and explained to me his description (as distinguished from Slovenija the dog's report has only the grade and the title, without the description, so the judge told each handler the description orally); among other things he told me Sambo was in excellent shape, has a very pleasant, typical expression and an excellent character. The ring steward gave me the papers and told me to come back for the choosing of the BOB (best of breed). So I waited nearby and when I saw that the judge was looking at the last class of the bitches I placed myself by the entrance of the ring to wait for our turn. While I was waiting I started chatting with some spectators that were seating at the margin of the ring and admiring Sambo. He of course didn't hesitate to come and ask for a good portion of petting and belly-rubbing. Then I saw the bitches were leaving the ring, so I entered and asked the ring steward if it was our turn already. She looked at me, the dog, the catalogue number and said that yes and that I can step closer. After us two more dogs entered the ring, which I found a bit strange as there are usually 4-6 dogs for the BOB selection, but ok. The judge looked at us, sent us to run and Sambo ran like a maniac again, whereupon the judge announced that we are first. We were very happy, but then the ring steward started telling me something about the best puppy that has to come once more… I asked her which puppy is she talking about, I have a veteran! At this part of the video you can hear the spectators (with which I was talking before) start hooting with laughter and after the first moments of astonishment Gregor and I followed their lead. I mean, after all the screw-ups I ever witnessed at ahows I have never seen a dog from veteran class get the best junior title. Well, Sambo did . Anyhow, after a long laugh and a wait in the ring itself by our smiling fans the BOB selection finally started. Sambo again presented himself wonderfully, running and standing, but the BOB title went to the (very nice) bitch.

So our judging ended and it was time for us to go windowshopping again and admiring other dogs. I also met a Belgian breeder of working Groenendaels and had a chat with him about the breed and working with it. Late in the afternoon we had to attend the BIS, which actually wasn't far away because our judging lasted until 4 pm due to the lunch break. This time Sambo really got his portion of action… I took him out of the box about 5 min before veteran class started and played with him for a minute in the empty rings in the corner of the BIS hall. Then we slowly approached the entrance of the BIS ring and I saw Sambo was sniffing the wall in a weird way. I immediately knew he wanted to pee. I felt sorry for the poor fella becuase this was the second day he didn't pee for 8 hours, but still my conscience didn't let me tell him to pee on the wall. After a few seconds I decided to take him outside to pee as I hoped the very 'kind' guards of the doors were gone by then. And we went. Up the stairs and across two halls to the first possible exit, where Sambo took the opportunity at once and watered the fence. When he was done we turned around and sprinted back again across two halls and the stairs and we just made it to the entrance when they started letting the veterans in. We ran well and Sambo did really nice, but we didn't achieve anything other than the judge giving a brief pat on Sambo's head. But who cares. We were done with the show weekend with lots of running, which suited Sambo just fine. But now we had enough of it and we were glad it was over. We were looking forward to the last part of our trip. We got into the car and drove to Middelkerke near the coast, where we found the correct address after a brief bickering with the GPS lady. Gregor and I stepped out of the car and rang. An older gentleman opened the door and looked at us in great surprise.

- Can I help you?
- Good evening, I'm Urša from Slovenija, I wrote you an e-mail a few days ago about staying at your B&B for one night.
- E-mail about our room…? Oh yes, now I remember, but I wasn't expecting you, I answered your mail two days ago and you didn't respond.
- I'm sorry, I couldn't because we were on the road and didn't have interned access, I hoped there won't be a problem anyway.
- No, not at all! Come in, please. Actually it's a good thing that you didn't come sooner (it was Sunday, 20.30…) because we were on a family reunion and my wife and I retured only about half an hour ago.

At that moment the wife came down the hall, with wet hair and her bath robe on. The gentleman announced at her that they have guests, the lady blushed a little and then they showed us where the room and the bathroom are. Then their very goodhumoured cavalier Tobi welcomed us as well and soon we went to get our things and Sambo, drank a juice with the couple and went for a short walk with Sambo. After that – a shower and to bed. I don't know whether it was the bed that was so phenomenal or it was me that was really exhausted, but that was one of the best nightsleeps I've ever had. In the morning I got up and took Sambo out and then Gregor and I were served an excellent breakfasr after which we didn't feel a great need to rush back into the car again. Finally we gathered the strength and packed; a few minutes before we left the gentleman knocked on the door and said he is very sorry, but he has to go out and that we should just leave the keys to the house on the table and wished us to have a safe trip. In sum, this was one of the most unusual stays I've ever had at a B&B (or anywhere, in fact), from the beginning 'ding dong, good evening, we're here – great, and who are you?' to the following extra friendly little dog, an amazing sleep and a super breakfast and the gentleman's unconcern about leaving total strangers alone in his house. But it was all great and I truly hope we manage to stay at their B&B for a night or two on our next Belgian roadtrip.


Sambo in front of our B&B in Middelkerke.

DAY FIVE – THE BEACH



As I already mentioned that day started with a walk on the suburbs near the coast and an excellent breakfast. Then we drove from Middelkerke through Oostende to De Haan, where we went for a walk on the beach. Unlike Groenendaal, where it was warm and sunny in the autumn forest, it was more or less cloudy and windy here on the desolate coast – but still these two walks were both wonderful and I have beautiful memories of both. Sambo ran like crazy, we made tons of pics and some video clips too (where you can see how Sambo jumps on the scarf that was dangling around my neck and nearly strangles me…) and we had lots and lots of fun. Then we went to the car, Sambo was packed into the boy and the two of us went to make a very short tour of the centre and to buy some waffles and pralines. We said goodbye to the beach and drove along the coast to the highway that lead us to the Netherlands a bit further from Rotterdam, to Zoetermer, where we went for a short visit to Oliver, Gregor's friend. After dinner we headed South, into Aachen, which is almost on the border of Belgium, the Netherlands and Germany, where we slept in Etap hotel, our last night on the road.


The cold beach.


The lovely train station in De Haanu.
















Floating on air...



DAY SIX – HOME AGAIN

The final part of our trip came. We had to travel a bit over 1000km from Aachen back to Ljubljana. The trip was tiring because of the lenght, otherwise the weather and road conditions were much better than on the way to Belgium. What we gained on time on the way up because of the bad weather we caught up because of the many roadworks, but we made it to Ljubljana at around 22.00 when we arrived home happy and tired. We had a marvelous roadtrip and I'm already looking for excuses for the next one… ;)

Final countdown

Yep, I'm counting down the days until the big roadtrip and at the moment we're stuck at number three...

In the meantime, we're enjoying the nice autumn. On Saturday I took my agility class on a school trip to the zoo, where Sambo was totally fascinated with the seal (he wanted to herd it, just as he herds the fish in the mini pond in our garden). When he saw he couldn't, he started shaking all over his body and soon he started yelling at it as only Sambo can. Soon, the seal and Sambo where having a nice conversation (to the great amusement of my students and other visitors), yoddling at each other. Oh well, such is the Belgian life...

Roaming around

We decided to enjoy a nice autumn day to go for a walk on Kurešček, a small hill near Ljubljana. There we discovered that in addition from flowers that are insect-pollinated and wind-pollinated there exists another kind, the ones that are dog-pollinated...



(in case someone gets the wrong impression - the sticky thingies fell off by themselves by the end of the walk, Sambo's coat be blessed)

... then we sunbathed on the meadow for a while...



And how does a Belgian look after almost two hours of hiking, fetching sticks and 5 min of sprinting across the meadow with me? Well, not that beat, to be honest...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2aNKuH_hSJU

Sambo and I went to the last trial of the season yesterday. Actually the season was made one trial longer as the Comitee for agility in Slovenija decided to organize a charity competition to raise money for the club of Železniki, whose training field and obstacles were ruined by a storm. The atmosphere on the trial was wonderful and even the weather had mercy on us - the weather was dry and even sunny for a while, despite of the heavy rain the previous days.

Sambo ean very well but unfortunatelly jumped over the first contact zone on the dogwalk. Nevertheless, he did a great job all in all and the second run went very well too. And so the season ends... It makes me feel a bit blue to think about it, but truth be told, we survived the end of the season every year because we always find something new to do quickly and so will we this year. We are never bored in Groenland!

Yesterday Sambo and I went to our third Rally Obedience trial, this time we competed in the RO II category as we succeeded to pass all the requirements to get into the higher level in the first two trials. Despite of the Arctic conditions we had a nice day, met some new people and saw some really nice performances.

We were 5th with which I was very glad, but I would be even more glad if I weren't such a moron and managed to actually walk slowly in the 'Slow walk' exercise. Apparently slowness is subjective, because I thought I was going plenty slowly and Sambo almost fell asleep, but the judges didn't share our opinion and we got 0 points for this exercise (and got no trophy because of that, clap clap). Nevertheless I'm very happy with the trial, Sambo had a wonderful attention and worked really very well. I can't wait for next season and new trials :) (maybe I'll even learn to walk slowly until then...).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a98eoXaBOWk

The Black Death did join me :). And what's nicer than a walk in the autumn woods in good company.

Back in the saddle

This week's theme is obviously Back in the saddly. After Sambo's yesterday's agility comeback after a few week's break I was on a horse today after a looooooong time (since January). Well, on a mare, actually. A friend of mine has a mare that they ride very very rarely, so I thought to myself - why don't I take this opportunity and do something good for both of us - the mare will finally have some action going on and I can ride for free. And I did. For almost two hours. I think I haven't had such an enormous smile on my face for quite a while. I'm afraid that tomorrow the gigantic smile will be replaced by a gigantic grimase because of the muscles I haven't used for more than half a year, but... It was worht it :). I hope next time the Black Death will join me.

Today Sambo finally did a bit of agility training after three weeks. He was on recovery and last week I only did a few tunnels and dogwalks, no turns, just to do at least some obstacles with him and not to force him too much. I didn't want him to feel left out - well, not that he was suffering that much, all of the people present were petting, scratching and cuddling him, and he was the dentex only Sambo can be :). He had a chat with his classmates and not only that, blonde ugly Shenzi was in heat and incessantly tried to charm him and win him over. Oh, she was in heat indeed. I'm only waiting for the next person to start explaining me about impossible, wanna-conquer males that are impossible to work with and are only good for making trouble. The blonde was waving and blinking her eyes at him, whining, hugging him and jumping on him, the only thing missing was her parking herself backwards on his head with her tail on the side (which she would probably do anyway if her handler would allow her, as three bitches have already done to poor Sambo). You couldn't really say he was about to leap into action and seize the opportunity. What can you do, he's a Good old fashioned lover boy.

Well, today Shenzi tried to squeaze the last atoms of her season out of her and she did her best to win the nigger charmer before it was all over. But when Sambo realized he was actually going to work today he only saw the obstacles and nothing else.Better luck next time, Shenzi.

Fear of the dark (dogs)

One of the most peculiar things in my opinion I deal with in the doggy world is how often people try to find excuses for themselves and blame it on the dog. Today on my morning walk I again experienced such a case when a doggy friend and I where chatting for a few minutes before we parted after a walk together. While we were talking two women approached us, walking along the path with a small mix off leash (our dogs were off leash as well). Sambo was seating next to me, already bored to death because of the lack of action and I saw that he wanted to go and sniff the little doggy when he saw him. But I saw the look on both the women's faces, so I told him to stay seated and held him next to me. At that moment the two women started to call the doggy anxiously, and the doggy couldn't care less, he didn't even twitch with an ear or something, he calmly headed towards us, so I let Sambo go because I don't want him to meet any unknown dogs without having enough manoeuvre space due to many bad experiences (not to complicate, he was attacked and jumped at numerous times by small and big annoying dogs when he was on leash or close to me, so he didn't even have any room to move away and avoid them). The ogs sniffed each other calmly, Sambo was even wagging his tail and the little one was (surprisingly!) cool, totally relaxed and didn't show any signs of uneasiness, aggression or fear. And then, one of the women comes running to the dogs (great), calling her Gizmo and saying that he can't do that, that he has to go away, that he fears dark dogs very much because he was attacked by one. Doing that, she leans over Sambo (awesome, what better thing to do to an unknown dog than to lean over hs back) and reaches towards Gizmo, who obviously wanted to do a bit more sniffing and moved away from her. So I said to her 'Lady, everything is ok. (No, you see, my dog is terribly afraid of dark dogs.) He isn't afraid, he's completely happy and unconcerned.' At that moment, the second woman comes running, goes between both dogs with her hands, grabs poor Gizmo by the harness and lifts him into her lap (brilliant). I actually felt sorry for the little guy, he was one of the very few smally dogs that behaved more than exemplary, without a trace of panic, aggression or fear, and that two women interrupted an interaction with two normal dogs (the thing he needs most if he really has a problem with big dark dogs, which I wouldn't say, judging by what I saw…). I can only hope that a) they don't REALLY impart a fear towards big dogs, so that he becomes one of the endless small annoying dogs, dashing at every dog they meet, and b) that one of the women doesn't get half of her face bitten off by a dog that hasn't got Sambo's socialization or character if they keep leaning over unknown dogs like that or getting their hands in between two dogs that are meeting for the first time. Yeah, I really wonder which of the three of them has a problem with big black dogs…

Just another manic Monday

Today Sambo finally got to go to agility training. Recently he started limping again and so he was on a forced rest last week – he had just walks and clicking, nothing too active, no training, no playing with his tricolor friend… Besides, last week I was quite busy and poor Sambo got only one walk a day instead of two for two days in a row. I tried to convince myself that he has to rest anyway and that it is for his own good. Well, after this two days I noticed that the neurotic in him started to increase rapidly inspite of my effort (clicking and tricks for his brain) as he started to howl, scream and whine at every smallest sign of me leaving, all in all, he started being an average unbalanced Belgian. So when he saw me leaving the living room through the window he flew over the five steps that separate the terrace from the garden a few times, probably hoping that I'm going out and that he's coming with me. I don't know if this is the reason that despite of the otherwise calm and inactive week the limping continued. Anywho, today I decided to take him to training anyway because last week he almost threw himself under the car when he realized I was going to training without him. I came a bit earlier so I could do some rally obedience with him and then he had a little chat with his schoolmates that had already arrived; I only did a few dogwalks and tunnels with him, the least risky obstacles, so he could have a bit of fun anyway. He of course worked much less than usual, but I think it was better than doing nothing at all. He was the good old Black Death from the beginning years in agility though… A glassy look, his eyes spinning round, foam coming from his mouth… How romantic ;-).

Oh well, let's keep our fingers crossed for the leg to be ok so that the nigger will be able to fly over the obstacles as soon as possible without limitations again.

Messages

A few days ago I went to walk Sambo in the evening and in the middle of the walk my neighbour and her two daughters, Tina (7) and Teja (5) came running after me and joined us. The little ones wanted Sambo to run with them by all means, which he actually did every now and then out of the goodness of his heart, but most of the time he didn't let himself be interrupted while doing his evening errands such as sniffing, marking and having his doggy fun. So Tina (frustrated because of Sambo's lack of interest in running around with them) aksed why Sambo sniffs so much and then pees on the spot he sniffed. I told her that's because when a dog pees he leaves a message behind him so that other dogs can read it and find out different things, like watching TV or reading the newspaper. And all was quiet for a few minutes. But then again…

T: Urškaaaa…

U: Yes?

T: Does EVERY pee has a message?

U: Yes, every pee.

T: … (thinking)

And what does the message say?

U: Look, Sambo just peed now and his message says: I'm Sambo, a magnificent 8-year-old boy, it's my second walk today, I'm a happy and healthy dog and I live nearby.

T: Aha…

And we keep walking. Tina was being unusually quiet, obviously thinking about the message in a pee sutff. Meanwhile, we were getting very near our houses as we were on the last metres of the field before we would cross the road and enter our street. At that moment Tina yells to her mom that she has to pee urgently and that there's no way she can make it home. We start convincing her that she can pee right there, that it is almost dark and no one will see her. So Tina goes a few metres away, does her business and runs after us. All was quiet for a few metres and then…

T: Urškaaaaa…

U: Yes?

T: Is there a message in my pee too?

U: Yes, of course. At least for the dogs.

T: And what does it say?

Just as I'm thinking what to reply, Teja, who has remained uninvolved so far, turns to us and says: 'That you couldn't hold it until we got home.'

UFO (Uncontrolled Flying Object)

As most of my weekends, this one was in doggy style too. On Saturday we went to the first agility trial of the autumn round (which was again more fun than successful, sadly) and on Sunday the Black Death and I participated in a frisbee seminar, organized by an agility friend. The seminar started with some serious warm-up – first we ran around the training field for some 5 min, which was followed by stretching and warm-up exercises. Firstly Jean showed us a few grips and throws, which we then practised in pairs. Then we were showed the next series of throws, practised them in pairs and so on a few more times. I have to say it was very interesting and we learnt a lot of new things. Of course we will definitively have to do quite a bit of practice as some of the throws resembeled an attempt to decapitate the near and not so near surroundings. Anyhow, we had a blast, we learnt a lot of useful things and, of course, Sambo enjoyed our practise together. I hope this wasn't Jean's last effort for us, frisbee fans…

The wollen revenge

As I have already written, Sambo celebrated his birthday on a seaside vacation on the island of Cres again, where we spent a nice week last year. We enjoyed camping, walking by the sea and plundering figs on the half-forgotten paths. Of course we also had our share of the local attraction – sheep. Unlike last year, when we had two or three quick encounters, we met sheep daily this year, sometimes even several times a day. Again, this year Sambo didn't fail his shepherd ancestors; he herded with great pleasure – and great style too ;). So after the first few days our ego grew stronger and we treated ourselves to a good round of herding with a clear conscience and even began looking for opportunities to find sheep so we could have a little fun. And so it happened that we were walking on a deserted path with nearby folds of rocks, common in these areas. Sambo was walking a bit ahead of me and saw the sheep running from the bush first. They played a short match of tag and then Sambo got the sheep into a corner between a bush and a low fold. I thought to myself that this could be a great opportunity to practice recall in difficult situations and without any victims. I called him for the first time and he only gave me a 'can't you see I'm in the middle of something important here' glance. I called him for the second time, this time with a bit more serious voice, and he came to me, of course walking backwards towards me and never leaving his wollen prey out of sight. Happy with the fairly quick reaction I praised him warmly and gave him a treat. He would probably eat the treat gladly any other day of the year, but the newly appointed shepherd thought it was below his dignity to accept a reward for him completing such holy duties. He took the treat out of courtesy and spit it out in exactly a second, eying the sheep carefully thr whole time. I gave him a little pat and let him return to the sheep and bark at her some more. And so for a few more times. He came to me a bit faster each time, obviously figuring out that he wouldn't be left without the sheep… But he didn't let her out of his sight for a second. Oh well, that can count as progress too. After all, it's the only proper and decent way for a shepherd, don't you think? ;)

(ps: but he found his match too… This sheep wouldn't give in and luckily Sambo realized that perhaps keeping a safe distance would be a good idea… http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3zOJnoliQ9I )

And to end, a few photo pics of us enjoying ourselves big time:

What do the prettiest ears in Europe do when on vacations? They take care of the coat, of course...

A sunset for me and Sambo

A trip to the island of Lošinj

Sleeping a la Sambo...

Sun pleasures

My two significant others

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

On Thursday, August 16th, the Black Death celebrated his 8th birthday. He variegated his celebration with an abundant round of herding the island's sheep (which were on a daily schedule either way) and a good deal of three-some swimming. I hope he will keep improving my life with his way of being for many, many years to come and that health will serve him well and long despite of his periodical stunts (willed and unwilled).

Unleashed life

Lately there had been many discussions about dogs, dangerous dogs, dangerous breeds, leashes etc. There are a lot of people who believe that dogs should always be on leash and most of them think of unleashed dogs as dangerous and their owners as irresponsible. I think that a dog's life or rather said his relationship with his environment is defined by three components – socialization, education and training. Sacrilegious as it may sound, the same order applies also to the priorities or importance of the individual component.

Some people cite working (police or military) dogs as an example, saying that they are perfectly trained and, in consequence, supposedly not dangerous. Are they? Well, my experience is that working dogs are or can be dangerous. Firstly, because any dog can be dangerous, at least if it has at least one tooth, one claw and a heartbeat. Secondly, because regarding working dogs the emphasis is on training, not socialization. Everyone that thinks so highly of model trained working dogs should see them on the field (and I don't mean in action). I think that after 5 minutes the logic leash = discipline = safety would fall apart. Sambo has been attacked quite a few times, from leashed dogs as well, so from then on the 'on leash' logic doesn't convince me anymore. When the ever so praised leash fails, I only pray that the dog that just snatched off has been off leash and socialized enough times in his life.

I admit, I don't comply to laws. I comply to common sense and respect towards other living beings. If I see that someone shows signs of stress because of the dog, I call him and hold him close to me. If I see children playing with a ball I hold him until we pass by them. If I see an unknown dogs on leash, I again call him and hold him. But if the other dog is off leash, then I let my dog be free as well, regardless if the other dog is a Yorkie or an Irish wolfhound. Furthermore, my dog isn't guided by a leash but by 7 years, 9 months and 16 days invested in him. Others claim that a dog that is off leash is a simple connivance because you don't have to take an interest in him. I think that it's exactly the other way round – if you have a dog on a leash he is 'secured' anyway, so meanwhile you can talk on the phone, chat with your friends, look at the birds… On the other hand, if your dog is loose you have to observe him constantly to see what he is doing, you have to check the surroundings… Or maybe it's just me that's weird, because I even care what is happening with my dog when he is running around. I do know that the rare occasions when he is on leash he is on leash so that I can be occupied with something else, rather than him. When he is on leash, he is connected only with my hand, when he's off leash, I'm with him 99%.

To end, a word or two about doggy racism or better said, a different attitude and treatment for different dogs… We all know that there are no dangerous breeds. We also know that there are more demanding breeds. Leashes and prohibitions won't solve anything. Every owner should be aware of where his or her dog has its mines set and why. With common sense, some knowledge and a bit of luck these mines will never explode. If people would gather enough (self-)criticism, most of the canine accidents would never even happen. Sambo has been off leash for most of his life since he was 10 months old. He is off leash for a simple reason – he deserves it (well, actually I deserved it with more than 7 years of invested time and effort). He ignores his surroundings, has zero interest in people and close to zero interest in dogs – and even in that area he passed the test of good manners with flying colours. IF he were problematic, I would have him under much more visible control than I do now. Just as I don't like 'children pest' screaming, running and passing footballs over my head, I'm also aware that my pooch may not be pleasant for everyone and I try to act in confirmity with that.

So… we're still on the loose as much as we can be ;). There are no civil victims known in our area.

In retrospective...

ZOOLANDER
Living close to a ZOO is a good start if you want to experience many interesting incidents. It is quite unusual to go for a walk on a nice autumn afternoon and hear the roar of a lion, plough your way through the thick winter fog at night, listening to the melancholy howling of a pack of wolves, stroll about in the beat of an elephant's trumpeting or take a walk on a hot summer day and listen to the screams of monkeys marking their territory - hm, actually, now that I think about it, screaming apes aren't that unusual in my life, I seem to encounter them quite often… Well, that still leaves me with lions, elephants and wolves, and a few years ago the proximity of the ZOO arranged an unforgettable encounter in the beginning of December. Sambo and I went for a walk on the field next to the Faculty of Biology; Sambo ran around, happy as always, and I walked through the few cm of snow left, with my head in the clouds, as usual. I looked around to see where Sambo was and I caught a sight of a slender tree trunk in the middle of the field. A slender tree trunk in the middle of the field? Odd. Then the greyish and black tree trunk moved. Ok, a stork or a heron, I thought, nothing unusual here. At that moment Sambo saw the bird and went towards it to see if they could engage into something interesting. We both expected that the heron would calmly stay there and then fly away, as they always do. We were both wrong. To our great surprise, the feathery thing boldly marched towards Sambo and when he, in great surprise, stopped short, even ran towards him. Very unusual for a heron, I thought to myself, when I stood there, in the middle of the field, watching Sambo running towards me with Big Bird behind him. When they were already fairly close, the feathery warrior stoppped and looked at me with a penetrating gaze… At that moment, even I, Hawkeye, saw that the bird was no heron but a black crowned crane. When the African saw that Sambo has a helper, he offendedly turned away. Of course Sambo went behind him and decided to do a little herding. The crane obviously didn't like Sambo's circling him and so the party began… Have you ever wondered where Daniel-san picked up the style of the crane? Well, I know the answer, and so does Sambo. When he got near the bird, it spread its wings, started hissing, stood on one leg and didn't let Sambo out of its sight. Sambo, naturally, had a blast when he realized that he brought Big Bird's attention, so he hopped merrily around it; I was amused too, up until the moment the bird had enough of it and launched itself towards Sambo, still standing on one leg and with its wings widely spread, covering about 3 metres in a single jump and kicking through the air in front of it. I didn't feel like laughing anymore and I could already see Sambo sliced up in fillets, with Big Bird standing over him with its golden crown and staring blue eyes. Sambo, on the other side, had just discovered the charm of this feathery wonder and started running around it, full of zeal, rebounding and evading the attacks of a growingly pissed off birdie with an obvious gift for martial arts. I soon saw that Sambo was agile enough and that he would be ok, so I could sit back and enjoy the show – the style of the Crane versus the style of the Black Death. Unfortunately, after 15 minutes or so I had to break off the duellists' fun and recall Sambo, who parted from his feathery opponent with a very heavy heart. Sadly we never met him again, we only see exceedingly boring storks and herons without the slightest trace of a fighting spirit. Perhaps someday we meet again…

On herding

Last summer my significant other decided he would take me to Cres, an island in the Adriatic sea. My significantly hairy darling agreed and so we went. The roadtrip passed without problems. However, the ferry ride was considerably more filled with adrenalin. Not because of the ferry itself but because of the stairs in it; you see, Sambo is a bit stair-o-fobic in unknown places so the extremely narrow and steep stairs were a death sentence to him. Actually, for both of us, no kidding. Climbing up such stairs usually isn't such a problem. But the downhill part is a whole diferrent story. When I saw Sambo wouldn't cope I lifted him in my arms so I would carry him down. Half way down the moron looked down, got spooked, started to panic and tried to jump off my lap, so we both almost fell. Luckily I managed to hold him until we got down, sadly on the expense of him furrowing my stomach and arms. But ok, it ended more or less fine and we got to live another day.

The real adventure of course started when we arrived in Cres. We encamped, pitched the tent and conquered a huge land we vigorously defended for the next few days. Then we went for a walk to the sea, first along the main road and then by a smaller marginal road with very little traffic and good visibility, so I always let Sambo run off leash there. So off we go along the main road… and meet the first sheep. Loose, without any fence around it, so it freely crossed the road. I suppose I don't have to tell you how enthusiastic and alert Sambo got. We continue and a bit ahead see the next flock of sheep, calmly grazing by the road. And a bit forward, another one. And another one. We finally arrive to the small road where I let Sambo loose; he starts to research the new territory while we walk on the left side of the road and by a small cart track on the left, guiding us to the ruins of a stall, enclosed with a fold made of rocks. A bit ahead of it is another fold of rocks and in it there are 4 horses, which I of course go to see and pet. We make a long, decent walk and happily return to the camp. The following day we go for a walk again. This time we don't see the horses, so we almost pass the cart track, but in the last second I catch a glimpse of a small movement with the corner of my eye. I make one step back and see – sheep. A flock of sheep, calmly chewing hay in front of the fold with horses. My boyfriend immediately joins me, while Sambo continues to cruise the road and enjoys the air full of scents. I knew I shouldn't have, but I couldn't resist myself, the temptation was just too big. I quietly called Sambo, pointed my finger towards the cart track and whispered: 'There are sheep there.' Sambo turned and looked at me; then he probably noticed my unusual smile and posture and decided to investigate what's going on. So he came to us and looked around the corner. And saw the sheep. Have you ever seen the movie Ice age? Well, if you have, then you must know what a face made poor Scrat, the prehistoric squirrel, when it saw a whole arsenal of acorns. Then you can also imagine pretty well what a face made Sambo when he saw the sheep. He stood there, fascinated, for a few seconds, enjoying the view. And then – action time! With his unmistakeable roaring he plunged rigth into the flock, which scattered in all directions. It looked like if a huge ball of wool exploded. The sheep went flying into the air, left, right, jumped over the stone walls… And Sambo was right behind them. In four seconds there wasn't a trace left of the sheep, Sambo or anything else, there was just silence and the rocky folds. My boyfriend and I exchanged glances in the silence and waited. And listened. Nothing, then we heard a yelp. And another one. 'What do you think is going on?' he asked. 'If I know my Black Death as well as I think I do, he picked one sheep victim which is now standing with its ass towards a bush and can't go left or right, with the one and only Death standing in front of it, centrifuging with his tail and yelping into the sheep, telling it to move and make his day.'

We decided to save the poor sheep, so my boyfriend went around along the road and I went pass the ruined stall between the shrubs and rocky folds. In a few moments we simultaneously came aorund the corner or better said, some bushy shrubs. And saw the sheep, pressing itself to the bush, eye to eye with the Black Death, standing a few feet in front of it, wagging his tail wildly and yelping into its face every now and then. Mamma knows, what else. Nevertheless, I have to confess that Sambo still surprised me. When my darling and I came around the corner and saw the exact scene I had predicted, we both started laughing. Sambo looked at us for a moment and the sheep wanted to take advantage of the situation to flee its guardian. In a second Sambo lost that comic touch and showed some serious, exemplary herding. When the sheep went left, he jumped in front of it and closed its exit to freedom; when the sheep wanted to dart out to the right, Sambo had already anticipated that and was already blocking it. When he lost focus for a second the sheep managed to escape. Sambo circled it from the side and slightly pushed it away with his body and then blocked its path, until the sheep again found itself in the shelter/trap of the bush. Even now I remember that herding experience with a proud smile because Sambo did everything by the book. He didn't bite the sheep or showed any intention to and except for that discrete push he never even touched it, he just blocked it with his body and directed it until it was exactly where he wanted it to be. In my opinion he passed his herding trial with flying colours. Of course, after such a successful presentation it is only natural one has to treat himself with a little fun. The sheep, who was now standing still, wasn't all that fun anymore, so Sambo gave it a little space to run away. Then, the off road trial began. The sheep went flying over the rocky fold, Sambo behind it. And pass my boyfriend on the road, me climbing over the rocks. Then they played tag for a while on a half flooded shore. The sheep soon didn't feel like running anymore, but Sambo's enthusiasm didn't subside, so he started barking at it to make it run a little more. Luckily he got to enjoy another round of sprinting; another sheep jumped from behind a bush by the road and found itself right between the other sheep and the Black Death. So they all had a relay race for a few more minutes, after which Sambo's adventurous spirit was approximately satisfied, so I finally managed to recall him. This was, without a doubt, the climax of Sambo's vacation, but we also enjoyed ourselves admiring the action and laughing to the herding adventure. We kept seeing the sheep every day that week, but never again near the small road, so I couldn't offer Sambo a bit more fun and recreation. Oh well, in a few more months the sheep will have their chance to get some payback…

On being Belgian

I've been noticing many battles between pretty people and functional people in many breeds the last years, and one of the battlefields was also the international Belgian forum (www.belgiansworld.com). This is a somewhat adjusted post I wrote on the forum to present my point of view:

I'm thinking of getting another Groenendael and I don't know which way to turn especially because of this kind of thinking - choosing between a working dog and a show dog. If I go to a breeder that has strictly show dogs, then I can probably choose between Fluffy, Puffy, Muffy and Tuffy, dogs with tons of coat and zero character. If I go to a breeder that has working dogs, I will most likely spend the first 15 minutes figuring which ones are dogs and to narrow my choices, which could be shepherds. If I go to a breeder that is neither, then the dogs probably kind of look like nice Groens and kind of work like them. That sucks! A BSD isn't Barbie and a BSD isn't Rambo. A Belgian is a dog that looks great and works great; of course every person has their priorities - ones emphasize more the looks, others emphasize more the working capabilities. But one thing shouldn't exclude the other! If you want a super fluffy dog, buy yourself a Bichon. If you want to do IPO with a thing that has the best bite power ever, get yourself a hyena. For the BSD is a combination of both, as the standard says - it is a combination of elegance and power, nobility and strength.

Belgians are neither just the looks nor the working skills. They are a combination of both; a nice dog that looks like a Terv, for example, but stands still when you throw a ball in front of him and stays there with a sort of 'Petit mal' absent look isn't a true Terv in my opinion; and a dog with excellent performance at IPO that is almost black, has the ear setting of a Welsh Corgi and the head of a GSD simply isn't a Malinois. I believe we should all strive to keep the breed we love as it is supposed to be - with both the looks and the ability to work. To maintain the essence of the breed as it should be, the whole package.

And to comment also on the standard (which, some argue, serves only to judge dogs on a show and is irrelevant for a 'working' breed) - if you have ever read the standard of the Belgians, you probably saw that there is a lot of descriptions about their temperament, way of behaving and moving; the standard is far from being just a list of things one should look for to evaluate a dog from a showing point of view; in it it is stated how angulated a BSD should be, how the body is constructed etc etc. This all applies to the functionality of such a dog - what this means for the working capabilities. And isn't this what matters most? Having a good looking dog with the correct physical features that enable him to excell at work? To be precise - having a true Belgian Shepherd Dog?

I hope we all overcome the dispute between looks and work and can start working together to keep this wonderful breed as it should be – 'a combination of elegance and strength.'