I’ve spent “some time” in the world of purebred dogs—studying pedigrees, bathing dogs at midnight, whelping litters, and showing up at ringside no matter the weather (or the odds). I’ve also spent years studying human behavior, working in behavioral health and working with people navigating life’s emotional minefields. And let me tell you—nothing creates a more toxic brew in this sport than a good old-fashioned grudge.
We’ve all been there: the judge who passed over your dog, the breeder who didn’t return your call, the handler who stepped in just as you were finding your footing. The sting of disappointment, embarrassment, or betrayal can linger long past the ribbons. But when we let that feeling fester—when it becomes a grudge—it does more than weigh us down. It infects the whole atmosphere of the sport.
Dog shows are, by nature, competitive. We’re comparing dogs, evaluating structure and type, and yes, trying to win. That competition can bring out the best in us: drive, dedication, attention to detail. But it can also bring out the worst: jealousy, resentment, suspicion.
Here’s the hard truth: We’re not just competing with each other. We are, in many ways, relying on each other. The same person who beat you today might have the stud dog you need tomorrow. The person who placed behind you might produce a puppy that complements your line perfectly. If we treat every ring result like a personal attack, we poison relationships that could help our breeding programs, and we hurt the very dogs we claim to prioritize.
I’ve been involved in dogs long enough to know that no one does this alone. Breeding responsibly requires collaboration, from sharing data to swapping puppies, to co-owning prospects, giving honest feedback, and staying open to hard conversations without ego.
But if we’re operating in a climate of suspicion, with silent scores to settle, none of that can happen. People start hoarding information, cutting off lines of communication, and closing the door on others, all out of fear or pride.
And you know who pays the price? The dogs. The breed.
Now more than ever, we need new people in our sport. We need young people, new families, and passionate hobbyists. But when they walk into a ring or join a club and feel tension in the air—cold shoulders, whispered gossip, or a sense that “you’re not one of us yet”—they won’t stay.
Holding grudges doesn’t just harm your relationships with peers. It sends a message: This is not a welcoming space. And that’s a message we simply cannot afford to send if we want this sport, and our much loved breeds, to thrive.
Let me be clear: Not every situation should be smoothed over and forgotten. There are real issues in this sport, such as unethical breeders, hoarders, people who mistreat dogs, people who mistreat people… the list goes on. These things deserve to be addressed firmly, ethically, and with the dogs’ and their humans’ welfare at the center.
But there is a big difference between holding someone accountable and carrying a lifelong grudge that turns into bitterness. If we internalize every injustice or misstep we witness, we burn out. We become jaded, hardened, and closed off, and that doesn’t help the dogs either.
So, what’s the solution?
You can be firm without being cruel. You can take a stand without holding a grudge. And you can protect your values and the values of this sport without poisoning your joy.
Letting go of a grudge doesn’t mean pretending nothing happened. It means deciding that your peace, your integrity, and the health of the sport matter more than clinging to a past slight.
It’s choosing to reset the tone. To greet that old rival with kindness. To compliment someone’s dog even if they don’t return the favor. To welcome the newcomer, even if no one welcomed you when you started.
It’s remembering that behind every kennel name is a person, and behind every person, a love for dogs that’s not so different from your own. The dogs are always watching us. They don’t care who won yesterday. They care about the leash in your hand, the tone of your voice, and the joy you carry into the ring. Let that joy lead you. Let go of what no longer serves you. And let’s build a sport that we can all be proud of—together.
