Winner's Dog

Well, this is not exactly the entry I thought I would be writing tonight.

All yesterday, I stewed an essay in my head. That essay started with waxing dramatic about the laying down of the leash and the sparky thin choke chain. I had decided over the past week that if my dog did not perform well, I was going to "retire" him from the conformation ring.
It didn't mean I was giving up working him, just that we were going to turn our nose in a different direction, and concentrate on obedience instead, or agility. I have struggled with this for a long time, because I really wanted to "finish" him (get the 15 points needed for him to be a Champion, and therefore deemed more valuable to breed).

It had started to seem, though, like we were banging our head up against the wall. After two days in Canton last fall and two days in Navasota the previous weekend with no wins and our spotty history in previous shows, I was beginning to feel that I was not getting anywhere fast, and that I was wasting a lot of money doing it.
The dog was turning five this year and had only enough wins to count on one hand. Last weekend, a girl I had seen at several shows was watching the Best of Breed competition with me. We were both marveling over one of the "specials", Rowan, when I mentioned to the girl I was thinking about retiring my dog.
"Your blue boy?", she says. I nod and tell her he hasn't been placing and I don't think he is going to. "Yeah, he's not the kind of dog that wins around here," she says nonchalantly, and turns her eyes back to the ring.

I am not sure exactly what she was intending to mean, but as I mulled it over, I looked at the dogs in the ring and could see what she meant. It seemed that, compared to these "specials", my dog was missing something. He was long and lean where those dogs were stocky and compact. He was artistry in motion, while those dogs were balanced and thick in hair and barrel. That's not to say he's not beautiful, but I am a bit partial.
At this week's show in Crosby, I set up near this same girl again. The first day of the weekend show, we got "dumped". Third place out of three in the class. I drove home, examining how I felt about the idea of not showing him in conformation again. I realized very quickly that suprisingly, I felt at peace with the whole thing.

I related it to my relationship with my horse, or how I felt about selling him. My dream had been to belong with him forever. My dream with Scout was one of points, ribbons, puppies, knowledge, but in both, what I really wanted was an extraordinary connection with an animal. I wanted to be able to demonstrate that I could be exceptional by working with a challenging animal - in Bullseye's case, a formerly abused, fearful horse, and in Scout's case, a "green" dog wiht a "green" owner/handler. By selling the horse, by retiring the dog, what I am really saying is "I give up on you", and that is a really hard thing for me to do. All who know me know I don't give up easily, but nor do I always get what I want.

At any rate, retirement was actually started to sound better and better. I was almost out of all my grooming sprays and coat conditioners and was glad to be rid of the grooming stand...for a while. Not forever. In my mind, there is already another puppy on the horizon, one I will have the experience to guide and show correctly, from the beginning. One I pick based on what I have learned from this time listening and watching, one to grow on. I realized as I drove home that I don't think I want to stop showing dogs altogether.
I will admit I still get a little thrill out of the whole thing, out of cutting and blow-drying his hair on the grooming stand, of walking into the arena in my suit with "bait" in the pocket and him bouncing beside me, and most of all, of hearing, "Australian Sheperd, Open Blue, Catalog Order Please!", and walking in to begin the short production of trying to present the dog in its best angles. It is the constant stream of undesirable ribbons that begins to get me down. My husband and I joke about the possible uses of all the blue ribbons he has won, but under the joke is the sad fact that there are just not enough purple ribbons to make it worth the gas and effort.

This second day of the show, I agonized over every inconvenience. I contemplated skipping the show and going to church instead, I groaned about waking up early, I almost didn't want to do any grooming at all. It felt like a waste of effort, but I did it all anyway.

I decided I was going to go out with a bang, and got him ring ready. When we were standing outside the ring waiting for our turn, a woman looked at Scout and said to me, "He's a nice dog". When dog show folks say nice, it doesn't usually mean friendly. I told her thanks, and mentioned I was thought so, too, but I was going to retire him, since he couldn't seem to win. She told me she thought he could be finished, that he was really nice.

Then she asked me if I remembered she and her friend, from the show in Canton. They were the ones who helped me out, when I had a flat tire and had bummed a ride to the show. "He should have won his class yesterday", the one said. "I liked him the best of all of them". They asked about his breeding. "Who's he out of again?" "Who's he by?" They recognized the lines on both sides, and also were aware that his dam passed away last week.

They asked me if I was interested in their opinion after our class, if they could see any handler flaws or glaring conformation issues. This is what I wanted to do. Is it the dog, or is it me? I have wondered. I have contemplated getting a handler for a couple of years, because at least I could eliminate that issue.

We went in for our class, Open Blue, and were picked for first. When I came back out, the woman was excited. She told me she saw a couple of handling issues we could tweak, and she said basically my dog is correct, that he has very little flaws. She mentioned a back toe that pokes out and sometimes the front falls apart, but that all could be stacked out, and that the dog free stacks very well himself anyway. She quickly explained to me how to correct something I was doing wrong with the front legs, and then sent me back in the ring for round two. Again, my dog was selected for the first place, a purple ribbon for the Winner's Dog.

When I came out of the ring this time, there were a lot of congrats, and a girl I had met at previous shows through the years but who had never been very friendly to me (Shelley) gave me a piece of venison jerky for the bait for the next round. "Get some animation in him," she says, "Keep it for the class". Then we went back in to compete for Best of Breed, which I figured would go to the special, and my new friends were behind me going "Psst! Now lift his neck up! Show him the bait!" I was glad that they really wanted him to win, despite my handling.

After the judge selected him for Best of Winners (giving the Best of Breed to the "special" - a dog named Badge), she shoke my hand and said "I really liked your dog".

Everyone told me this judge was "mean" and yelled a lot, but this day, when we got our pictures taken, she told me again she liked him, and "sorry I didn't put you up for Breed". It was the nicest thing a judge has ever said to me.

Afterwards, I had a mini handling clinic with the women from the Canton show. Both of them, one whose dog beat me yesterday, were just admiring how nice he was. They mentioned a couple of minor flaws (he's rolling a bit in the hind, probably because of the short upper arm, but you can exercise him more and that will help, his coat's a little thin but that shouldn't matter that much) and pointed out some grooming errors. They felt sure that with some tweaking in my handling, he could and should finish.

It made me see things differently. The day before, I had thought that maybe it was neither one of our faults that we couldn't make it work. Maybe it was just fate, just the luck of the draw that he would stay small and light while the other dogs got husky and thick with fur. Maybe I had just been trying to shove a circle into a square peg, just not the right shape to get the job done.

Today, I see it completely differently. Imperfect practice is, after all, still imperfect, and my vision hasn't gotten good enough to see us completely objectively.

This woman fills me up and gives me the courage to keep going. If the road is not getting us there, it is time to change something, but maybe not slow our stroll. "Maybe put him with a handler, just to finish him", she says. "If you could afford it."

"Or," she says, "I could show him for you. I wouldn't charge you very much."

A bit later, I am getting ready to leave, and see Sharon again, the one I had set up by and talked to this and last weekend. I told her a bit about where I had been, and she also offers to show him for me, saying she could probably finish him for me. I tell her I am going to get her card before I leave, but I leave without seeing her again.

That's okay. I have a card in my shoe, given to me by the lady who was so helpful to me today.

I turn the card over in my hand and smile a little when I see her name. It just seems so fitting.

Hope.