Sweet little poodle Minttu tells a touching story of some dramatic events that ended up changing her whole life. This is the first part of a series of two blog posts.

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Hi guys!

I am Minttu, which translates to Mint in English. Not the booze Finns like to add to their warm chocolate during cold winter days, just a gentle and happy little poodle. My handler, or mom as I call her, brought me home to Vaasa from Lapland 3 years ago. When I was almost a year old, we sort of accidently started a beginner’s course in agility. You can just imagine how well we knew what to do, but we sure had fun performing different obstacles!

I admit that I have a sensitive and considerate personality, so our learning journey has always been an interesting ride. Maybe I think too much? I don't want to make mistakes or disappoint my loved ones. That is why I always tried to stay close to mom during courses. I must thank the Universe that, as a former sailing and downhill skiing champion, she is pretty fast.

Less than two years ago we started competing in class one. Mom was nervous, but I comforted her by looking into her eyes: “Hey, I can do this”. The very next weekend we already moved up to class 2 and six competitions later to class 3! Quite nice progress for some rookies ;)

But my poodle life changed dramatically in September 2015. I was in a competition, just about to step into the start area when, in the blink of an eye, a dog attacked me. Mom and the other dog´s handler thought that nothing serious had happened, since I had no visible cuts.

During the next few weeks I tried to hide that I was in pain. I think that I managed it quite well, partly because at the same time I got a “little puppy sister”, so mom first thought that I was just shaken from having to share her with somebody else. Then when she took me to the doctors, the internal bleeding has already made my entire body freeze. For months I just rested, ate painkillers and had massages and short walks.

At the beginning of this year we started agility training again, since the doctor said it would be ok. But I was very scared to run. Despite the fact that we kept training sessions very short and overly happy, I could still remember the accident. And the pain that it caused. I understood that we had to start somewhere and I so much wanted to jump and just go, but I was insecure. What if somebody bit me again? What if jumping would hurt?

Some of my training buddies thought that my career was over…