Where Confidence Was Born: The Power of a Dog Show Journey

When I found out I was having twins, I was thrilled, and I also vowed to treat my children as individuals. It seemed like an obvious intent, but I had seen so many twins dressed alike and treated as a pair, as opposed to their own persons. My sons were born, (36 years ago now), and immediately Freeman and Forrester Wilson were distinct. Although they were barely a pound apart, one of them inhabited their body like a feather, while the other felt quite grounded, leaden even. It was an interesting, early observation; these boys were not alike.

Fast forward to their early school years and they continued to distinguish themselves. Forrester was more athletic, more gregarious, and more “book smart” (if that is even a term anymore). Freeman was a great boy, but was a bit in his brother’s shadow. Forrester loved soccer, for instance, and Freeman played too, but it was just not his thing. This was a pattern.

When the boys turned 10, I purchased a male brindle and white Bull Terrier, Beckett. This would be my third BT—and a second for my kids, who had grown up with another brindle male—but this would be my first show dog. The breeder, Marion Dussault, told me he was important to her breeding program and whomever she sold him to would co-own the dog, and that he had to be shown. I agreed to all of this, not knowing what any of it meant. Luckily, this co-ownership turned into one of the most enriching friendships of my life, and Freeman’s as well.

Beckett needed to mature, and at about a year of age Marion told me that he had to start going to handling class to learn how to show. I was expected to take him, and she set me up with the time and place, and with a proper show lead and collar. The class was coming up, and out of the blue, Freeman, now 12 years old, said, “I want to do that too!” While at first this seemed surprising, upon reflection, it made sense. Freeman had already proven to be one of those people who animals are drawn to; he was always quite natural and comfortable around them. Marion had a tri-colored female Bull Terrier bitch that he could use, who happened to have a couple points on her, and so the team of Freeman and Belle was born.

Freeman and I went to that first class together. We both did okay, but while I was mentally and physically sweating away, Freeman was just kind of sailing along. You know when you see a pair where the dog stacks and looks at the handler with intensity and love? That look of, “Just tell me what you want! I will do anything for you!” That was Belle and Freeman from the get-go.

We started going to shows, and both Beckett and Belle started racking up points. Marion was handling Beckett at this point, as it was obvious I was not yet up to the task. But Freeman and Belle more than held their own, and they were both loving it.

This show world was new to us and quite exciting. It became a major focus, and it actually took me a while to recognize how Freeman’s newfound love was permeating other parts of his life. This was where it started; how this dog affected and blessed a life. Freeman, who up until this point had not had anything that was his passion, was beginning to bloom before our eyes. Freeman was exuding a happiness and confidence that we had never seen before.

We brought Freeman and Belle to our National Specialty, and he was entered in Best of Variety as well as Junior Showmanship. The schedule had Juniors at 8 AM on Sunday, before the National started. Most people were busy readying their dogs for the main event, but a few hard-core Freeman fans showed up to give him support. Freeman did not own a suit yet. He was wearing a navy crewneck sweater over a button-down shirt with his little Junior’s pin proudly affixed. Breeder-Judge Carolyn Alexander was judging. Carolyn addressed the small crowd, welcoming them to Juniors and briefly explaining what that meant; primarily that she was going to be judging the handler rather than the dog.

She then proceeded to ask Freeman to do a “T” formation, which is as complicated as it gets, involves switching the lead from one hand to the other twice, and requires the dog to perform equally well on the left side and the right. Their performance was a thing of beauty that probably no one else in the room could have accomplished. I only wish more people were there to have seen this. Bull Terriers are not necessarily known for their ring manners, but then again, most Bull Terriers did not have Freeman on the end of the lead.

We were almost exclusively going to Specialty shows (those shows with Bull Terrier breeder-judges) and we were becoming part of the BT family. In fact, Freeman had about five self-proclaimed “Moms” who “adopted” him. We were warmly welcomed, and folks loved seeing Freeman and Belle in the ring. That is, until they were pretty much winning at every show they entered. What began as, oh-look-at-the-cute-boy-and-his-dog, became, dammit, Freeman and Belle are here. Freeman finished Belle’s Championship and earned her ROM (Recognition of Merit). By then, the chit-chat had turned a bit dark.

Folks were saying it was Belle, not Freeman, who made it all happen. That Belle knew how to show, and was easy to handle, and blah-blah-blah. As fate would have it, Marion had a litter on the ground—born on Freeman’s birthday— and her pick of the litter was an all-white bitch named Hope. At eight weeks of age, Marion said, “Hope is going to be Freeman’s bitch. No one else is going to train or show this dog, and this bitch is going to take him to Westminster.”

Freeman, now 14 years old, and Hope hit the show circuit with a bang. The day she turned six months old, we entered her in a show (with two of her sisters as well, me handling Sylvia), and Hope and Freeman took Winners Bitch for her first points. We would go on to show the sisters together dozens of times; I think Sylvia and I beat them twice.

A few shows stand out in my mind. Freeman, now 15 years old, entered Hope in the Junior Showmanship Novice Junior class at a Connecticut show where Fred Ferris was judging. Judge Ferris was instructing the Juniors to do a down-and-back on the diagonal, but halfway back he wanted them to stop and free-stack their dog. Freeman brought Hope exactly halfway down the rubber mat, stopped, and free-stacked her. Hope was four-square, properly up on her toes, ears up and forward, neck arched, and her eyes were boring into Freeman. She looked like a white marble statue, albeit one with rippling, toned muscles. Fred paused. Freeman had a way of holding his dogs in awe; she was worshiping him. Fred, with a huge smile on his face, proceeded to walk incredibly slowly—painfully slowly—all the way around them, 360 degrees, ending where he began. Hope never flinched. Not even the flick of an ear. It was stunning and magical. They won their class.

The next show that brings fond memories was the following month when we had flown down to the Dallas area from Massachusetts for a Specialty; Freeman and Hope had won Winners Bitch and were in a large Best of Variety ring. Breeder-Judge Cecil Mann pulled Freeman and Hope to the center of the ring, along with husband and wife Breeder-Judges Bill and Becky Poole, who were showing their specials (champions). I was sitting in the stands, literally on the edge of my seat. The judge pointed to my son and Hope for Best of Variety, and a bunch of us leapt to our feet, cheering and making a spectacle.

Later that fall, Freeman and Hope won Best of Variety under esteemed Judge David Merriam at Morris and Essex. I can see the silver bowl from where I sit at this moment, where it is displayed with love and pride. It was the year that the Colored Bull Terrier, Rufus, went on to win Best in Show, so all of us Bull Terrier people were quite focused on that, but Hope’s win is a cherished one. Judge Merriam told Freeman that he was thrilled to finally give Hope the win she deserved.

A few months later, February 2006, Marion’s prediction came true. At the age of 18 months, Hope would be entered at The Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show with Freeman on the end of her lead. They once again sparkled in the ring, and won Best of Variety under Judge Bruce Schwartz. The famous Colored Bull Terrier, Rufus, had won the Variety, and we knew he had momentum going into the Terrier Group (he went on to make history by being the first Colored Bull Terrier to win Best in Show at Westminster), so it took the edge off of Freeman and Hope. I was there in support, as their “bucket bitch,” taking care of Hope’s grooming and pottying, and making sure Freeman’s suit and shirt were pressed, shoes polished and tie pristine.

As evening arrived and the Groups began, the energy was surreal. The Westminster Group competitions at Madison Square Garden have a feeling all their own. That building is steeped in history, athletic, political, musical, and otherwise, and I swear you can feel it emanating from the walls. It is electric. A crew of us had taken over a block of seats up in the stands. Me and my partner, Freeman’s father, and friends from Massachusetts had come down, and friends from New Jersey had come up and over. And my Dad was there. My Dad had brought Bull Terriers into my life when I was nine years old, and he got to experience this evening with his grandson, a third-generation triumph and the reason our kennel name is Legacy.

There was a moment where Freeman was presenting Hope to Judge Peggy Beisel-McIlwaine and the Jumbotron showed Hope’s beautiful, egg-shaped profile filling the entire screen and we collectively gasped. Those were the days when you could buy a DVD of the show, and there is a second, amid all the noise, where you can hear us scream “FREEMAN!” Although they did not go on to place in the Group, it is still one of the most exciting and proudest moments of my life.

I particularly remember standing with Freeman and Hope, me in my chalk-stained grooming smock, in the area where they assemble you before the Group enters the televised ring. Freeman had only turned 16 years old a few weeks before, and he was about to compete in the ring alongside the finest professional terrier handlers, all decades older than him. He was ready.

How was this even possible? How did we get to that moment? I know that we had charted many miles, putting in our hard work at shows in California, Arizona, Florida, Texas, and even Canada. But the greatest distance logged was within Freeman himself. From a somewhat shy boy to a teenager coming into his own, in command of his life, and most importantly, enjoying every minute of it.

Eighteen years later, roles were reversed. My Miniature Bull Terrier bitch, Nora, won Best of Breed at Westminster in 2024. And this time, Freeman came to support me. I gave him a heads-up about a month before. I said, “Freeman, if we make it to Group you have to swear that you will drop everything and come help me, because I’m gonna need it!” Freeman made good and took off from work. I had told him that while I knew I was going to need help physically, schlepping things here and there, grooming, etc., the real help needed was going to be psychological. I knew I was going to be a bundle of nerves and would need his assuredness.

I was reminiscing with him about standing at the entrance to the floor of Madison Square Garden, with him looking so wise and confident beyond his years, ready to give it his all. It was at that moment that he told me he had actually been really nervous. I laughed out loud and said I had no idea; he had certainly hidden it well! Nervous or not, in those few years, from the age of 12 to just turning 16, in and out of all those rings, experiencing all the various levels of competition, against adults and professionals, he had developed enough confidence to take himself into that ring, and these thoughts emboldened me—as it was about to be my turn. Today, Freeman is remarkably successful in business and a man of genuine character, his evident self-assurance and zest for life rooted in the experiences he gained in the show ring.

As a teen, Freeman had gone on to earn Championships and ROMs for several dogs, and he worked with a few professional handlers. By the time he was 17, his dog show/handling interest was waning and our dogs were beginning to age-out. He was about to take a big break from the dog world.

About two years ago, Freeman, then 34 years old, and his wife, Ngoc, told me they wanted a Mini BT puppy. I told him we would find them a great dog, but that they needed to be patient. We knew we were going to breed Nora, but the timing had to be right, allowing her to finish her show career and also to find the right stud dog. On February 9, 2025, our first Nora litter was born—on my birthday, by the way. Freeman picked his pup, and Dora is now his first dog to own as an adult. They are hitting the show rings, and Freeman’s confidence is being instilled within Dora.

At their first show, Judge Peggy Beisel-McIlwaine awarded Dora, with Freeman at the helm, Winners Bitch at Morris & Essex. What a lovely full-circle moment from his evening on the floor of Madison Square Garden, 19 years before, with the same judge. The confidence, joy, and passion continue.