In the world of purebred dogs, we talk a lot about preserving breed type, producing sound, healthy dogs, and leaving the breed better than we found it. But for all our talk of betterment, there’s a quiet ego issue in the ring that too often undercuts that goal: the inability of breeders to celebrate wins that don’t happen on their own lead.
I’ve seen it time and again—breeders who, when beaten by a dog they bred and sold, can’t quite manage a smile or a “well done.” Instead of pride, there’s a pause. A coolness. A shift in tone. The joy of the dog’s success gets filtered through the lens of personal defeat. And I have to ask: why?
When did we start defining success only as the win that happens on our leash, in our pocket, under our name in the catalog?
Let’s step back.
You bred that dog. You evaluated it. You chose the pedigree. You sold it to someone with the hope that it would be shown. That dog is out there representing your breeding program. If you didn’t think it was good enough to win, you shouldn’t have sold it with a show contract. If it wasn’t worthy of the ribbon, why was it entered?
Judges don’t award dogs based on who holds the lead. They award based on what’s in front of them—balance, movement, condition, showmanship, detail, type—and their interpretation of the Breed Standard on that day. It might be your special that’s a little flat, or their class dog that’s peaking. The outcome doesn’t diminish the quality of your breeding. In fact, it confirms it.
The truth is, if your goal as a breeder is to produce a dog better than the one you kept, you should be proud when one of your puppies beats your dog. It means you did it. You moved your program forward. That’s a win.
If you’re mentoring someone, selling them a show prospect, watching them campaign that dog—and then resenting their success—what message are you sending? That success is only valid if it’s yours alone? That the dog only matters when it benefits
you directly?
We can’t have it both ways. We can’t say we’re breeding for the future of the sport and then undermine that future when it shows up in another exhibitor’s hand.
Here’s the hard truth: the sport is bigger than your ego. And if your ego can’t handle a dog that you bred taking a ribbon over your dog, then your definition of success is too small. We should want all of our dogs to succeed—especially those placed in thoughtful, capable homes. Their wins are a reflection of our decisions. Their success is still our success.
You don’t have to like losing, but you do have to remember who you’re breeding for. And if you’re doing it right, the answer isn’t just “myself.”
It’s the breed. It’s the future. It’s the dog.
And that dog? That dog in someone else’s hand? That’s still your dog.
Own it. Celebrate it. That’s what real success looks like.
