Last Saturday, Janice and I went to the Ann Arbor Dog Training Club to watch dog agility trials. Conditions for spectating were ideal: we had front-row seats, and we were surrounded by people who knew what was going on. Conditions for human and canine competitors must have been pretty great, too. This was an AKC-sanctioned event, and we didn’t hear any complaints.
Agility trials feature various classes, the most advanced of which, we were told, is masters. Club officials were preparing the course for the masters-level dog-and-handler teams when we arrived. This particular obstacle course featured jumps, tunnels, and weave poles. The handlers had downloaded what the course would be, via the club web site that morning, and they were studying it as they waited.
Once the physical course was ready, the humans got a chance to walk it. Each handler walked the course several times, increasing speed as became familiar with the order of obstacles, and adding arm movements as they sped up. The humans have to direct the dogs as they navigate the course.
There are height divisions within an agility class, so that dogs compete against dogs of similar size, over jumps appropriate for their size. The smallest dogs competed first—shih tzus, papillons, cavalier King Charles spaniels, toy poodles—the little squirts. These small dogs are just as intense about running the course as the taller dogs. Which is to say, pretty intense indeed. They just look adorable doing it.
The handlers, while Janice and I were watching, just look like regular humans. Their job is to give the dogs navigation instructions through body language and oral cues. This must take a lot of practice. All the handlers we saw used arm signals in indicating the next obstacles, and the dogs were watching for them. From my view as a human spectator, though, the handlers as a group gave scant brain space to what their “off” arms were doing. The off arms were, by and large, extended just as far from the body as the guiding arms. And the handlers changed which arm was the guiding arm as they worked their way through the course. Yikes.
The first canine competitor that truly dazzled us was a min pin, a miniature pinscher. It clearly planned on winning. Janice wanted to photograph the run, but by the time she got her camera ready, the min pin was already through the first two jumps and a tunnel. That dog provided new understanding of the phrase, running flat out. The front and back legs stretched so far in front of and behind that the dog looked flat in the air.
Many dogs, no matter their height division, punctuated their performances with barks. Jump an obstacle. Bark! Another obstacle. Bark! Through a tunnel. Bark! Various interpretations suggested themselves. “Got it!” “Nailed it!” “Yippee!”
One young border collie devolved into yelling at its handler. The dog wasn’t paying close attention to the human’s directions, clearly believing it already knew everything necessary to completing the course. Things were going well until the dog absolutely didn’t know what to do next. Although the handler was giving clear signals, the dog wasn’t in listening mode and just shouted at her. After a second or two, it remembered how the relationship was supposed to work, and finished the course.
At the opposite end of the intensity spectrum was the Labrador retriever. The dog was an easy-going, affable sort. When the handler signaled to the dog to start, the dog paid attention and agreed that would be a fine idea. For some time later in the day, perhaps. The handler signaled again. The dog agreed again. When the human tried a third time, the dog rose from a sitting position and ambled over toward the first jump. And so it continued.
About three obstacles into the course, the dog noticed a woman seated at the edge of the course, officially observing. “She looks like a nice person,” the dog’s thought balloon said. “I’ll go over there and see if she’d like to pet me.” The dog made a like overture to another official, further along in the course. Meanwhile, the handler continued to exhort the happy Lab to complete the obstacles, which it did, slowly.
At length, someone in the audience broke protocol and shouted, “Run!” The dog considered this another fine suggestion to act on at some later time. Or not. The dog seemed pleased with its own performance. In the end, all the dogs seemed pleased with their performances. All the competitors, human and canine, agreed: a dog agility trial is a fine way to spend a Saturday afternoon.
16 May 2025