Members
The Weekly Brief
The best of SHOWSIGHT editorials, weekly wins, and breeder commentary — delivered to your inbox every Sunday morning.
Serious exhibitors are always looking for ways to improve. We study our dogs, watch other exhibitors, listen to mentors, attend seminars, review videos, and think about what we could have done differently. That desire to get better is one of the qualities I admire most in owner handlers, and it’s something I encourage through Dog Show Mentor. But continuous improvement only works when we know what actually needs changing. A trap hides inside the desire to improve: We can become so determined to make things better that we start changing things that weren’t wrong in the first place.
Think about what happens after a disappointing weekend. We change the grooming, the speed, the lead, or the setup. Perhaps we change the dog’s conditioning program. Sometimes we try a new handler. Eventually, an exhibitor who began by questioning one performance can find themselves questioning the dog itself. We assume that because we didn’t get the result we wanted, something must be wrong and, therefore, something must change.
But not every loss identifies a problem, and not every problem requires a change.
Learning the difference requires something we don’t talk about nearly enough in showing dogs: discernment.
An inexperienced exhibitor often asks, “What can I improve?” That’s a useful question, but as we gain experience, I think there is a better one: “What actually needs to be improved?” Those questions sound similar, but they can lead us in very different directions.
Over the years, as an exhibitor, breeder, mentor, and judge, I have come to believe that most of what we see in ourselves and our dogs falls into one of three categories: Fix It. Develop It. Leave It Alone. The challenge is deciding which one we are really looking at, because that decision determines whether we change, wait, or stay the course.
Sometimes things really do need to be fixed. The dog may not be in appropriate condition. Grooming may obscure rather than enhance the dog’s virtues. The dog may not be sufficiently trained to allow a complete examination. Sometimes this is an easy fix. Perhaps the handler is moving too fast, preventing the dog from using itself properly, or positioning the dog in a way that makes the judge’s job harder. Timing, ring awareness, and presentation can all interfere with a judge’s ability to evaluate an otherwise competitive dog.
When we can identify one of those problems, we owe it to our dog to work on it. That’s improvement. The danger comes when we identify the symptom without identifying the cause.
Suppose your dog repeatedly breaks gait on the down-and-back. The obvious solution may be to practice more down-and-backs. But what if the dog already knows how to gait perfectly well? Hint: It usually does. Perhaps you accelerate as you approach the judge or shorten the lead without realizing it. Does your own anxiety cause you to change what you normally do? All of these are “handler errors.” The dog breaking gait is what you see, but it may not be the actual problem.
This is one advantage of seeking knowledgeable outside eyes. From the center of the ring, I can sometimes see something quite different from what an exhibitor believes is happening at the other end of the lead. Video can tell us the same thing. So can a good mentor. Before we start fixing anything, we need to make certain we have identified the right problem.
Fix the cause, not just what you can see.
This may be the category we understand least, particularly in a world that increasingly promises us faster results. Some things aren’t wrong. They simply aren’t finished.
A young dog may need maturity. A new owner handler may understand exactly what to do but still have to think consciously about every part of the process. A dog and handler may know the mechanics but haven’t yet developed the partnership that makes their performance appear effortless. Those aren’t necessarily problems to correct. They are things that need to develop.
Today we have extraordinary access to information. Exhibitors can watch videos, attend online classes, study photographs, talk with breeders around the world, work with mentors, and observe exceptional handlers without ever leaving home. We can learn more in an afternoon than exhibitors of an earlier generation might have gathered in months.
But there is an important distinction, and it marks the shift from learning to development.
We can accelerate learning. We cannot always accelerate development.
Dogs still have to mature. Skills still require repetition. Partnerships need time. Ring intelligence comes partly from experiencing enough situations that we no longer have to think consciously through every decision. Confidence built from genuine competence cannot simply be downloaded.
I sometimes see exhibitors trying to correct something that time would solve far better than intervention. More pressure isn’t always the answer. More drilling isn’t always the answer. Sometimes what is needed is another season, more trips into the ring, or simply more opportunities for the dog and handler to become a team with one another.
Knowing when something needs work and knowing when it needs time requires a depth of knowledge that goes beyond skills, tips, or tricks. The real question is not always how to act, but whether to act at all.
This may be the hardest category of all for ambitious exhibitors because ambitious people are doers. When something doesn’t produce the result we want, our instinct is to change something.
We change the grooming, move faster or slower. We change things that we can think of changing. The big one: We change handlers. We rethink the show schedule. Before long, the dog that was presented consistently from weekend to weekend gets a slightly different version of the program every time it walks into the ring. For the dog, those constant changes can become confusing. Remember, the dog is not simply the exhibit; he is part of the team.
Yet consistency is part of what gets dogs into the top rankings. Notice how the top dogs can perform the same routine, in much the same way, day after day. They know their job. Their handlers know the routine. That consistency allows the dog to do it for the handler and, just as importantly, for you.
Sometimes the correct response is much simpler, and it begins with what actually happened in the ring.
Your dog looked good. Your dog was properly conditioned and presented. You did your job. The judge evaluated the dogs in the ring. And another dog won.
That’s showing dogs.
A dog show is a comparative evaluation. A very good dog can be beautifully presented and lose. A very capable owner handler can execute an excellent performance and leave without the ribbon. The absence of a win is not, by itself, evidence that something went wrong.
That distinction matters because once we assume every loss contains an instruction, we begin searching for changes whether we need them or not. Eventually, we can create inconsistency where none existed before, and the central question becomes not what changed but whether anything needed to be changed at all.
Improvement requires change, but constant change is not improvement.
Don’t dismantle something that is working simply because it wasn’t successful that day.
So, how do we know which category we’re looking at? One of the most useful questions we can ask is whether what happened was an incident or a pattern.
One poor down-and-back is an incident. A dog consistently losing its shape at a particular speed may be a pattern. One judge’s comment about conditioning is information. Hearing a similar observation independently from several knowledgeable people deserves closer attention. One weekend when a normally enthusiastic dog seems flat may mean he doesn’t feel well that day. If he gives you the same message over several weekends, that is something we should listen to.
The goal isn’t to ignore information that makes us uncomfortable, nor is it to treat every observation as a mandate for change. The goal is to collect enough useful information to recognize patterns without manufacturing them.
This is where The Dog. The Judge. YOU! becomes more than a way to think about winning. It becomes a diagnostic tool.
Start with The Dog. What is the dog telling you? Is there a consistent issue with condition, movement, training, attitude, or maturity?
Then consider The Judge. Are you reacting to one judge’s decision, or are you beginning to receive consistent information across multiple evaluations? Remember that a judge’s decision is one evaluation on one day among the dogs present. It is information, but it is not automatically an instruction.
Finally, look at YOU! Are you helping the dog demonstrate its virtues, or is something in your presentation getting in the way? Are you evaluating what happened objectively, or reacting emotionally to a result you didn’t want?
Then decide. That is the point where the categories come together:
Continuous improvement doesn’t mean continuous correction. The best exhibitors I know remain curious and willing to change, but they also develop the confidence to recognize when patience is required and when something already works. Not every result calls for a change; the goal is not to modify more, it is to change only what truly needs revamping. It’s discernment that helps us know when to act and when to leave it alone.
Winning can tell us something. Losing can tell us something. Feedback can tell us something. But none of those things makes the decision for us.
Feedback gives us information. Discernment tells us what to do with it.
Dog Show Community
