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WARNING – Potentially boring Science Break which will—I promise—help you become a better dog handler.
The human brain consists of about 100 billion neurons, making nearly 100 trillion connections. The subconscious brain can manage multiple streams of information—about 11 million bits of data every second! Our conscious mind, though, acts more as a single-channel processor when it comes to task-oriented behaviors, slowing down to only 40 to 50 bits of information a second. Moreover, when learning a new skill or solving a unique problem, things bottleneck even more as memory, decision-making, and attention span compete for limited bandwidth. In other words, multi-tasking doesn’t work!
Research has determined our brains can only effectively hold three tasks at a time. Additionally, when we switch from one task to another, our mental processes suffer. This is called “task-switching” and it actually reduces mental efficiency 40 percent because, as the brain moves from one task to another, it has to drop one before reconfiguring to the specific requirements of the second. The colloquial expression for this phenomenon is “a Brain Fart.”
So, how does all this apply to showing dogs? Let me relate a recent personal incident… and PLEASE don’t share this story with any of my students!
Three weeks ago, I was entered at a dog show with six dogs: five English Toy Spaniels and one Cesky Terrier. This alone is reason to question my mental functions!
I was up at 4:00 am and got the dogs exercised and fed. I handled last-minute touch-up grooming. I loaded my snack bag, show jacket, a hot mug of tea, and all dogs into the appropriate crates. I drove off, proud to find I was nearly 10 minutes ahead of schedule. I’m a big-time schedule advocate!
Forty-five minutes down the road, I noticed how comfortable my feet felt. Weird, right? I normally wear orthopedic sneakers with knee-high leg braces. Wiggling my toes, I was surprised at the roominess. Then it hit me… I didn’t feel anything under my pant legs except my socks. The realization was horrifying—I was still wearing my bedroom slippers!
Now granted, they sort of looked like shoes. I mean they had fronts, backs, and rubber soles. It was an outdoor show on the grass, and they were vaguely the same color gray as my pants. However, after a year of use, they’d stretched at least two sizes.
Going home meant I’d miss English Toys. So, I did what any diehard dog show competitor would do; I showed in my bedroom slippers at the area’s largest annual dog show! Despite losing a shoe/slipper twice on my go-arounds in the Group, I managed to pick up a placement, proving, at least on this day, the judge was truly focused on the dogs!
While this is my most recent brain fart, it’s assuredly not my only one. A few years ago, I showed up at the AKC National Championship without my ring bag. Yes, I had grooming equipment and supplies in my grooming bag. Unfortunately, my ring bag held all my must-haves: finishing products, high-end grooming tools, and show leads. Sadly, replacing everything decimated my budget, which my Juniors thought hysterical.
In my defense, over the years I’ve lived through some extraordinary Junior brain farts. There was the teenage boy who forgot his socks. A seemingly small issue except he’d just experienced a nine-inch growth spurt. His pants looked like capris. Gaiting around the ring, he flashed spectators and the judge a calf-high length of naked newly-hairy leg. At least once a year, a Junior will arrive at an out-of-state circuit without show clothes, their garment bags still at home. One 10-year-old Open Junior showed up at ringside with his Toy dog on a thick rope walking lead, no bait, and a pair of flip-flops on his feet. There’s been forgotten dog food, forgotten medications, forgotten pre-paid parking passes, forgotten fans, forgotten pop-up tents, forgotten snacks, and yes, plenty of forgotten shoes.
True story… I was traveling to a Toy Specialty with an 11-year-old student. Her babysitter had dropped her at my house while I was finishing up some last-minute chores. The girl loaded her things into my car and then came to give me a hand. When I finally loaded my dog, the crate next to his was empty. Yes, she’d actually forgotten her dog at home. That impressive brain fart added a 90-minute round trip to an already seven-hour travel itinerary.
Thankfully, there is a cure for brain farts: “focused preparedness” consisting of written lists and organizational routines, physical cues, single-focus tasking, and extra time.
Lists—and I go with old-school paper lists—are the starting point for stress-free dog show organization. I’ve created a basic list for newbies, explaining what you’ll need and why you’ll need it. This inventory can be used to organize pre-and post-packing. Regardless of age, once my Juniors are in the Open class, they gradually assume responsibility for the packing list. I believe firmly, if a child’s participating in an activity, they need to assume a level of accountability.
If anyone would like a copy of the packing list, feel free to contact me.
Another way to fight brain farts is continuity in organization, as in, “A place for everything and everything in it’s place.” There’s a reason professional handlers standardize the way they arrange their setups. Under the pressure of tight ring time, you don’t want to be frantically digging for that special brush you need—now! Before every show, I go through both my grooming bag (which contains virtually anything you “might” need to get to the ring and then some) and my smaller ring bag. In both, each item has a specific location, confirmed prior to loading the car.
At shows, our reserved grooming space is often shared by as many as 14-18 Juniors and their families. Inevitably someone misplaces something, desperately needing a bait bag, slip collar, or Band-Aid. When it happens, I can confidently state, “It’s in the bottom pocket on the left side of the grooming bag beneath snoods” and peace once again prevails. Knowing exactly what you have and exactly where you can find it goes a long way to creating calm. A corollary to this bit of advice: clean as you go. During the course of a day, clearing away clutter and putting items back in their “assigned” spots reduces disorder and chaos. Finally, the last to leave the setup ensures everything is put away, ready for the next day.
Physical cues are another way I find to remind myself. My grandmother from the “old country” used to tie a string around her finger. I can never find string, so I’ve developed other techniques. For example, I’ve arrived at ringside without an armband so often, I am embarrassed to relate the number! In recent years, I started wrapping the show lead for each dog I’m exhibiting around that dog’s armband, ensuring I can’t get a dog to the ring without the number on my arm. Or, on a circuit, every evening before I go to bed, I leave my show blazer on a hanger on the doorknob out to the hallway. Then, no matter how bleary-eyed I am, I’m not getting out without that jacket.
One of the strongest behaviors I can advocate for is single-focus tasking. This was difficult for me, but the science finally won out. Too many “senior moments” of “Why did I come into the kitchen?” convinced me to complete one task fully before moving to the next. Task-switching comes with a measurable performance sacrifice that researchers call the “switch cost,” which results in slower response times and higher error rates on the task you’ve switch to. As I’m writing this column, I have a dog who needs to be trimmed, classes to be scheduled, and tomatoes needing picking. It’s taking all I can do not to pop up and start one of these other jobs before completing this column, but science—and yes, experience—has taught me that if I do, I’ll likely screw something up.
The final step in your journey to a Zen dog show experience is time. Rushing will invariably encourage you to fall into the multi-task trap. Give yourself time to get to a show. I don’t care if your hotel is only 10 minutes from the showgrounds and on Friday you made it there in six. On Saturday, I can almost promise, the road to the dog show will be blocked by a circus parade, or a rescheduled bicycle race, or a spontaneous wizard’s duel (BIG Harry Potter fan here). Or your dog will have diarrhea in his crate, the zipper on your skirt will break, or you’ll realize you can’t find Busy Bee (nod to Best in Show). Always allow for extra time and then, in my experience, double that. Worst case, you’ll have more time to enjoy this magazine, visit with friends, watch judging, or just hang with your dog.
Dog shows are stressful. However, applying the suggestions above can help you keep serene, focused, and prepared… and wearing shoes!
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