About Us

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A Girl and her Ki-Man: The Journey Ends

Como te dije sin contar, cada día de tu vida, te diré sin contar por siempre, Te quiero mi lindo mijo, mi precioso, mi tesoro, mi Kirazón.

This Angel Light has been reassigned to the heavens.

Me and my Arrow

Straighter than narrow

Wherever we go, everyone knows

It’s me and my Arrow…

Me and my Arrow

Taking the high road

Wherever we go, everyone knows

It’s me and my Arrow…

This song from the 1971 animated film “The Point” was the beginning of a relationship I had with a dog who didn’t even exist in 1971. The first time I heard these lyrics, I knew he was coming into my life. Little did I know that it would be another 36 years before he arrived.

August 2007, LA International Airport, I’m standing in front of a large animal shipping crate. Inside all curled up, a small ball of red fur…”Are you my Airo?” I asked. Up popped a little red head with two long pointy ears. Two electric yellow eyes met mine, and that was that. We bonded instantly.

From the beginning, he was my ever-present companion and constant shadow. Airo was a big boy, and when he grew up, his ears always brushing my hand and thigh was a reminder that he was there, for me.

I trained Airo to be my partner in competitive Dog Agility. At the time, I was hoping for a “Super Dog,” and Airo absolutely fit the bill, both physically and intelligently. He was extremely smart, learned quickly and accurately, and, boy, did he have some muscles! He ran like a rocket and jumped like a gazelle. Airo developed into a true athlete, and he loved it.

At one point, we tried to train him in Schutzhund, but after only three lessons, the instructor said Airo was just too gentle a soul for that sport. 

But Airo excelled in Agility, at least in practice, if not so much in competition. That’s because four major surgeries between 2007 and 2012 kept me out of the competition Agility ring. Instead, Sara handled Airo all those years, and they excelled in Jumpers With Weaves and FAST, achieving Excellent titles in both categories.

I could go on and on with stories about our travels and our adventures in and out of Agility, how well trained he was or his extreme prowess as an Agility jumper. All of that was great, but seems so unimportant now. What is important for me to remember is: I once had a buddy named Airo. I was his number one butt scratcher, and we took care of each other. I was the only person he offered kisses to. In that way, he let me know that I was special to him.

Spring and Summer mornings meant coffee and doughnuts in Airo’s front yard. (My first cup of coffee and Airo’s green rubber doughnut.) Airo would start his day playing with his doughnut while I watched, drinking my cup of joe. This was our morning routine for many years.

Airo was baby brother to Apache and a big brother to both Chuqui and Ki. Airo was a friend to every person he met.

Rest in Peace, my lovely boy, you have taken a piece of me with you to the Bridge…Know that when I remember “Us,” there will be tears in my eyes… and a smile on my lips.

He was my Arrow, and I, his Oblio.

Douglas Morrison

Chuqui (aka Chuqerator, Girlie, Sweet Pea, Chuquitita, Chuqs the Wuqs, Ch-Chutz, Ch-Chuqs) crossed the Bridge on 12/8/15. She was a firestorm of life energy, so compelling that she was rarely at rest. Douglas and I both said that today right before she crossed, may have been the calmest we ever saw her in her whole life.

Yesterday, as it became clear that it was time to go, she was literally sparking with electricity. It would happen to her too when thunderstorms came. At other times, I would barely raise a fingernail to take my headphones off, and she would jump up to be a part of whatever was next. As soon as the washing machine would click off, she would jump up to go help hang the laundry up outside. She would vibrate and bark waiting to be released to her dinner. She never cuddled her toys; she ran and ran and ran with them. Of course, she would make a shambles of any counter at the pet store, because she could not wait for her treats. Impulse control was not her forte. It took her two times to pass her CGC because she wanted to jump on everyone in the Crowd Test. She and I competed in agility, where her energy would just spike beyond what could be withstood. We destroyed many a starting gate, many weave poles, and sometimes we finished a course before her energy took over and made that day’s run impossible to finish. 

She never gave in to her many health issues. She endured many surgeries to remove lumps and growths. If you saw Chuqui wearing a green T-shirt, it meant she was recovering from yet another surgery. She endured endless liver tests. She recovered in less than the recommended time from TPLO surgery when she tore her CCL. 

A supreme athlete, she was a “fling first, think later” girl. She loved to jump and jump and jump. No wall could contain her. I once saw her jump over a sawhorse we were using to cut up firewood when she realized there was stuff on the other side where she had intended to land, and she literally pushed herself while in the air to get past the debris in her landing area. She tore her CCL coming out of the weave poles while competing in Albuquerque, but tried and tried to jump the next jump. Later that day, after she tore her CCL, she still dragged me across the parking lot back to the van.

She was one of the barking, insane girls at DPCA agility nationals in Pomona in 2013 traversing the dog walk with a lot of air between her and the dog walk but not falling off. She loved going up the teeter totter backwards; it was her favorite obstacle. While Airo has been the agility star of Team Moke, she undeniably beat him a few times, even at the weave poles.

Strong, proud, confident, she bowed to no one. “No” meant nothing to her. She did life on her own terms, and sometimes we all got to be on her team. Not often. But her family was the most important thing in her life. It’s the only explanation for how many times she came back yesterday from the brink of the Bridge. She simply could not leave her family.

The dogs travel in the back of the travel van in their harnesses on a zip line. Airo usually folds himself into a tiny ball and sleeps. Chuqui always assumed a Sphinx pose when traveling. She rarely if ever slept being a Sphinx. She was alert and calm this morning when she went to the Bridge from her Sphinx position.

Dear Friends and Family,

We want to first thank all of you who have shared such kind thoughts and memories of Apache. We are so blessed to have such family and friends. We treasure each of you.

And we wanted to share a few of our own memories and celebrate our boy. When the vet left our house on Thursday, we asked her to thank everyone at the facility who helped us during this difficult week. And she said, no worries, you know, Apache is a legend around here. 

We are biased, obviously, but we would agree.

Apache's exploits on the agility field are well known. He has so many ribbons, we ran out of places to put them: green Q ribbons; for most of the green ones, a colored place ribbon; and then the title ribbons. At his peak, he was ranked Number 25 of Dobermans competing in agility. His favorite 24" opponents were hard to beat: Colter, Sedona, Deacon, Rikki, Blaze, Shayla, and others, but we all enjoyed the friendly competition. He was known for his crashes too, spectacular ones off the dogwalk or skidding across wet grass on his tummy while turning after a jump because he didn't know how not to drive hard. And he was known for his famous "non" sit on the table, just took forever to wiggle his little butt down. He had recently started his agility career over by competing in Novice on the Preferred track, and completed his Novice Preferred Standard title with Sara just in September. One of Apache's greatest gifts is everything he taught Douglas about agility and training and being a team, helping move Douglas into a vocation beyond his art. He was the Moke Ranch agility "demo" dog. We never realized how the training videos we took would become such treasured gifts now in his passing. 

Apache has left many holes at home as well. The puppies are too well behaved to engage in Apache's favorite kitchen behavior: countersurfing. He was banished to the outside kennel more than once for eating our dinner off the countertop while we changed the TV channel. Gerry and Kay will remember that we had Apache pie when they came to visit; he left a small portion of the apple pie for us to eat. At 9 o'clock in the morning, the cardinal in the bird clock chirps, which on Tuesdays signals agility students arriving. Apache would often bark at 9 a.m. other mornings as well, anticipating the arrival of students, but only at 9 a.m., never any other time. He was completely devoted to both of us, and was never happy if either of us was somewhere else, and was completely unhappy if he was by himself, and at those times sounded more like a whale than whales do. He was intimidated by almost no one, except Kiowa, the cat; Apache would not cross through a door if Kiowa was planted there. He loved water too, although there's not much of it around here. He learned to swim at Oak Creek, spent a weekend in Ray and Sharon's pool, chased balls in the creek near Lynn and Bruce's house, and swam in the ocean at a Wags for Wishes trial in San Diego. Of course he was a legendary jumper, starting with the picnic benches that came with the house when we bought it. And after we put the fence up, he knew the one exact spot behind the guest house that he could vertically jump and still get out.

As Uncle Vic said, the Moke Ranch will not be the same without the Official Greeter, Apache. Trying to fill his shoes, it takes Chuqui to jump the wall and Airo to bark.

Sara and Douglas