(Author's Note: Words in bold are words for Jesse to look up the meaning.)As there is no video footage to verify the validity of claims that I was a trick dog I see it as my duty to come forward with a first-hand account of the events from my past, offering up my memories and matching those memories against the performance of a modern day trick dog (and real live dog) Chipper.
As many Trickers (industry term) know, the human attempt at dog tricks, in itself, is a feat that requires the utmost level of practice, skill, and God-given ability. To even attempt such tricks, it should be noted, requires the nerves or Lassie and the courage of Benji (The Hunted). Tapping into the dog
psyche (syke) is the first and most important step.
Obviously safety should be at the forefront of all tricks. But in my day we spit in the face of safety. No nets were used, no safety harnesses, no ambulance was waiting to whisk me away should injury befall. I was at the mercy of the elements, risking life and limb for the entertainment of a few—who I liken to the raucous and blood-crazed crowds of the Circus and the Coliseum.
When I would take the floor, a whisper could be heard. The ringmaster would have the crowd in his palm, time stood still.
“Speak” was shouted and from my being would come the perfect bark… “Arrf, arrf.” Many have fallen into the snare with such a simple command, trembling at such a demand. “AARRRF, AARRRRF,” I would repeat, the crowd shuttering at the sound of my alpha-male dominance.
Again silence.
“Roll over.”
As tricks come this one is to stare death in the face. The crowd would again be on the edge of the sofa. “Can it be done?” they would wonder. Mom would look away for fear of seeing the hand of the reaper take her beloved son/dog.
Huzzah! He’s done it. A perfect roll, executed with the stealth of a ninja, and the wisdom of a thousand monks.
A second roll, a third. This is true greatness.
The performance would go on for several minutes, leaping off of furniture, more roles and twists and moves that would make a
contortionist tie up like a pretzel, a recitation of the birth of Christ from the gospel of Luke, and tricks that would make Helen Keller sing like Celine Dion. To see me as a trick dog was to experience Nirvana.
Modern day.
As sports so often do, they mutate into a technical form that bares little resemblance to the “golden days.” Such is the case with Trick Dogs. Having unionized, the sport feels empty and gray. Certain tricks have been labeled as “too risky.” Others have simply faded into the past as adventures and
whimsy.
But don’t you think for one second that a master of the craft would neglect to pass on such ancient tricks to his own beloved canine.
Chipper is released in a blur from the
macabre of his cage. With speed unseen before on earth, or elsewhere in this universe, he navigates the narrow passages and perilous terrain of the arena. And in an instant he is as still as a statue. He hangs on my command. He lives for the words that I speak. His soul yearns and the anticipation is almost too much—his stub of a tail as it wags, the only motion he makes.
“AARRRFFF.” He speaks before the command is even off my lips. Dog and handler are of one mind, a connection that cannot be broken. Muffled at first, the bark becomes louder and louder with each command. Chipper has taken skill to the next level. He is in his own doggy Matrix where the realm of reality can be altered to his wishes.
“Shake,” I say.
“Which paw,” he replies.
“The left one.”
“You mean this left one,” he laughs as he holds up his right paw.
“No, your other left,” I rebut.
And in a puff of purple haze he plants his left paw perfectly in my palm, sealed with a lick of his tongue to taste the success that is his due.
He’s up, he’s down, he’s almost in a roll. This fur-ball of fantastic is a sight to see. Helen Keller would stand and applaud at his performance.
And as soon as he has arrived, he is gone. Only in the distance can you hear the sound of a rawhide bone.
To see Chipper is to see true artistry and grace, poetry in motion. Comparisons cannot be made to two Trickers such as these. One was before his time, a one-of-a-kind find. The other is a throwback to days of old in a time when tricks had but all been forgotten. One might even say that the majesty in which I performed somehow was years later breathed into the body of a young pup, a pup we all know as Chipper.
