Excuses are like bricks: they don't fly

It's 5:30 in the afternoon, my cell phone rings, a number I don't recognize. I answer it, and can barely make out the caller saying:

How much do you charge?

Well it depends, I say. What's your name?

**Billie.

Can you tell me what you are looking for?

Her version: She has a mixed breed dog that, she says, needs "training." Right away.

My perception: She has a dog with a serious behavior problem and history of multiple bites. There is little pattern to the behavior, and it has been going on for close to a year.

My recommendation is an initial evaluation; I tell her how that works, how long it takes, and how much I charge. And what some possible next steps would be, depending on the evaluation, ranging from medical work-up to behavior modification.

But she just needs some training.

You said, the dog is muzzled full-time, right? Has this dog bitten you? Do you have any children in your home? Are you afraid of your dog? It sounds to me like this dog has a serious behavior problem. I'd like to see if I can help you; would you like to schedule an appointment?

She says she might call back next week.

**not her real name - if she actually gave it to me. 

But wait! you also get...

A while back I wrote an essay on being a huntmaster; it's a tough job and I've had the pleasure of seeing some really good ones recently. All things being equal, I'd rather have a dog in a hunt than anything else, but if I'm not running a dog, I'd rather judge than anything else.

At it's best, judging is a lonely job. And spending six or eight hours all by myself is a luxury... no phone, no e-mail, no chores, nobody talking my ear off... just wide open space and endless quiet and the opportunity to be as the hounds slip and the jackrabbit does its level best to out maneuver them. I start my recorder and let stream of consciousness go from binoculars to lips, running commentary. I listen to the play-by-play as I do my scoring, close my eyes and the entire course plays out again.

blue in the lead, pink has quit, yellow arcing around, yellow does a legitimate go-bye... pink has the run-up, pressing the rabbit hard, jink right, advantage blue... tallyho, rabbit straight out, pink on it, the others trailing, rabbit has it's ears up, rabbit hard left advantage yellow, blue very wide can't corner for beans, pink and yellow now pressing the rabbit hard... all tail chase, wow a hawk forced a turn! left turn, pink now has the lead and is closing on the hare... yellow has been dominated since the last wrench, pink is fading, blue out of frame. pink has quit, yellow is still on it, hard turn left, rabbit induced turn... they are coming up the hill right toward me, gawd what a strong rabbit, he's opening up an enormous lead... they have gone into the cover, just flashes of blanket now, they are back in the open, yellow is pressing the rabbit very hard and gaining, take attempt... rabbit is opening a big gap over blue, yellow and pink trailing, left, right, order is the same, dogs are bunching up, blue in the lead, yellow second, pink third, all tail chase, out of sight over a berm... blue opening up a big gap, accelerating and gaining on the rabbit, opening a huge lead over yellow... interesting, rabbit is dicking around, ah now pink is pressing hard, ears down, arc right... yellow trailing, pink is closing the gap on the rabbit, closing, forcing turns, soft turns, left right left again, take attempt, rabbit is very pressed, very pressed, hard right, again, and pink has it...

Recording the courses is great, vastly simplifies my ability to see an "instant replay", enables me to know duration, course dominance, blanket color, and assure kill credits are as fair as possible. As for relying just on my memory would be, well, let's just say I wouldn't do that to the hounds.

But in a 6 or 7 hour day, there may be a total of only 10 or 15 minutes of coursing. You may be wondering what I do with myself the rest of the time. Never fear, gentle reader, there's a long list:

Bright warm memories of great courses to warm the feet on frozen mornings... sand in places ladies don't discuss, sunburn, windburn, mist and frost on boots and in your bones, afternoon doldrums, bored senseless... rattlesnakes (rare), bees (one unforgettably creepy day), countless birds, from burrowing owls and quail to golden eagles; an elk once, pronghorn often, assorted ground squirrels and prairie dogs. There's also repetitive stress injury from lifting binoculars... getting second guessed, yelled at, and developing a thicker skin, gaining a broader perspective and a deeper appreciation of the hounds, and an abiding and genuine admiration of the rabbit.

The season is over, much to the disappointment of my hounds. I watch them twitch in their sleep, lips curled, feet tight, and wonder if they replay the great courses on their eyelids, too.