Dog Jumping

[Martin Hash]

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My wife, Gwynne, & I have lived in the PNW for 43 years but have never been to the Oregon State Fair so we decided to correct that oversight by driving down to Salem on opening day, eat corn dogs & deep-fried cookie dough, and listen to the classic rock band, Chicago; their first show after 18 months in lockdown. The first thing we noticed on arrival is that despite the mask mandates, the people who go to state fairs, rural types who show their farm animals for prizes, don’t care, which is good because I didn’t want to carry around a cup of beer all day just to go maskless. (Turns out, I carried around the cup of beer all day anyway.) The first show we watched was a guy doing acrobatics on a water-powered hoverboard: never seen that before; I was impressed. Then there was the barnyard races: the duck never even finished, and there’s nothing faster than a piglet running to a trough. Gwynne wanted to get our picture taken dressed up like gangsters so did that. But the best event by far, one I’d never even heard about though apparently it’s national, is dog jumping.

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There’s 5 divisions: Novices jumping less than 5’, Amateurs out to 10’, Semi-Pro, Pro, and jumping 25+ is Extreme Pro. Here’s the set-up: a 32’ X 21’, 32K gal pool, a runway, overweight but committed & sincere owners, and overly-excited dogs just waiting to be famous, all in an atmosphere of relentless barking. The announcer talks from a booth above the fray, giving tidbit information about the dogs: “Everybody loves Molly: she’s a sweetheart, and puts her heart into her jumpin’, that’s for sure; and her owner, Clarice, she ain’t hard on the eyes either.” The dog’s owner tells it to “heel” at one end of the runway then casually walks to the end over the pool, basking in the limelight of a large audience, pretending like it’s all cool, do this everyday. The announcer says: “Remember, the more noise you make, the bigger they jump: it’s called ‘amping the dog',” and he starts a countdown: “Five! Four! Three! Two! Go!!! The owner throws a chew-toy in the air and the dog shoots down the track like a lightening bolt, launching off the end, and arcs gracefully to catch the toy in its mouth before splashing into the water. The announcer: “Whoa! That was sumpin’! And 22 feet to boot. Give it up for Molly, folks!”

Molly was my first, and she held her own against Nova & Bacon (named because of his color I’m told) but she was soundly beaten by Wrigley at 23.5’; and Lacey was even better at 24.6’; however, the all-round champion was Magnum, at 25.1'! Not surprising, Magnum is also the Douglas County Fair champion, I tell you what. Magnum is also the world champion in form who can do a perfect 8’ up by 8’ out half circle.

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Of course, being Oregon, there was this old woman haranguing the announcer while he was trying to work; yelling that she was going to “call the mayor” on him. That lady was tenacious, she just wouldn’t go away, but wrong crowd, weirdo: you must be from Portland. She was finally chased away but one of the dog owners who’d had enough of her sanctimonious screed.