Recently, I posed a request to my Facebook community, Dog Show Mentor Owner Handlers private group. These are not formal members of the Dog Show Mentor program, but owner handlers who desire to learn more about showing dogs. My request was:
“To all the people who posted show brags—tell me WHY you won. Not ‘my dog is great’—but why he is great.”
I wasn’t looking for applause lines. I wanted them to articulate how their dog exemplified the Breed Standard and how that compared to the competition. I wanted to hear the specific language of “dog speak,” citing the hallmarks of head, body, coat, structure, and quality. I wanted to see exhibitors identify the reasons the judges likely had for pointing to their dogs.
I received a mix of insight, passion, and something unexpected: the almost total absence of breed-specific language.
Even when prompted, many responses leaned on generalities. “He’s balanced.” “She has great movement.” “The judge loved her attitude.” While these may be true, they’re not enough. Only occasionally was I able to identify a breed based on the win description. What was missing were the words found in the Breed Standard itself; the phrasing that explains why your Dachshund holds her topline properly or how your Manchester’s tail set matches the Standard’s description. The hallmarks of type were sorely lacking in 99 percent of the responses.
These observations are not intended to criticize anyone’s posts. They are a call to action. The 21st-century Sport of Dogs doesn’t often train owner handlers to think, speak, and show in the language of the Standard. Previously, this sport thrived by sharing the most essential information about a breed from person to person, with care and intention. Members of the sport shared their observations in breed-specific terms with newbies. Now, however, we must be more cognizant of training the exhibitors because that’s where mastery begins: passing knowledge forward.
Let’s examine what emerged from the Facebook discussion and where we all have room to grow.
Some responses made a solid attempt to explain the win. They hinted at structure and type, but even these rarely went far enough. The names of the framers have been changed.
Liz wrote, “Balance! Equal moderate angles, which translates into clean, moderate movement. Correct ear set and head planes, nice bone, and a thick tail with correct length, brush, and carriage.”
It sounds informed—and it is. But nowhere does Liz reference what those things mean for her breed. What is the correct ear set? How long should the tail be? What do moderate angles look like in her breed’s silhouette?
Cali offered, “Exceptional breed character, beautiful front assembly… one of the prettiest tails I’ve seen.” Again, what makes that front correct for her breed? How is the tail carried, per the Standard?
To move from instinct to intention, we must use the language of our Breed Standards. Quoting the Standard forces clarity. Repetition builds fluency. It also packs a wallop of correct verbiage into the mind’s eye of other fanciers and judges. For example, according to the American Kennel Club (AKC) Breed Standard, the Havanese has a “springy” gait. Using the word “bouncy,” as some exhibitors do, can be confusing since the words have slightly different connotations.
When your Standard calls for “a level topline with a slight rise over the loin,” use those words. If your Standard specifies sickle-shaped tails carried up, use those words. When we use specific, breed-informed language, we educate everyone around us. That’s how we deepen understanding—and that’s how we keep the culture of mentorship alive.
Some exhibitors compared their dogs to others in the ring. That’s an important step—dog shows are, after all, comparative. But again, most descriptions stopped short of being fully instructive.
Chris wrote, “My dog had the best combination of head, eyes, and front in the lineup.” I can’t tell what breed this is from the description, but this observation is worth unpacking. Which head traits were correct for the breed? Were the eyes round and dark, as required? Was the front straight with slightly sloping pasterns and cat feet?
Penny added humor by saying, “If a judge wants movement, that’s us. If they want ribbing and keel, that’s us. If they want topline, that’s us.” It’s witty—but what kind of ribbing? How deep? How far back? What defines the correct topline in your breed?
Comparative merit only works when it’s anchored in the Breed Standard. Without that, you’re comparing preferences, not correctness.
Owner handlers should observe the whole ring and assess where their dog stands against the Standard. When you know why your dog excelled—and where others fell short—you start showing with intention, not just hope.
It’s common to hear, “Only the judge knows why.” True, but that answer lets us off the hook. If we want to grow, we must take responsibility for interpreting what happened in the ring.
Some exhibitors made this connection. One wrote about her bitch: “She is balanced and to Standard… correct side gait with no wasted movement… correct angles, proper prosternum and tuck-up.” A great start—but again, what is the correct angle? Where should the tuck-up fall? Which part of the Standard addresses those traits? “No wasted motion” might be a clue, yet there are still no clues as to what breed she’s referencing. Many Standards use that phrase.
Another contributor went further, offering a breakdown of the Italian Greyhound movement: “Hi-stepping and free is grossly misunderstood in my breed… judges expect something hackney-like or bizarre—it’s really much the opposite.”
This comment offers insight that helps others learn. This person isn’t just talking about his dog’s win—he’s educating on breed type. That’s the difference.
Good exhibitors study the different preferences of the judges and how they interpret the Breed Standards. Those exhibitors who are successful watch what is rewarded. They match results with ring behavior, hand position, and where the judge lingers. It’s not guesswork. It’s pattern recognition. And it’s part of the job.
You can have the most correct dog in the ring, but if your presentation doesn’t show it you might as well leave it in the crate.
A number of exhibitors referenced showmanship, conditioning, and movement in their posts. But again, few connected these choices directly to breed-specific presentation.
Darlene described her dog’s movement with some specific language: “Balanced side gait… correct tail like a shepherd’s crook… shown at correct speed on a loose lead to preserve the bouncy movement stated in the Standard.” This is what we need more of, except the Standard of this particular breed says “springy,” which, as noted above, may be interpreted differently than “bouncy.”
Presentation is not imitation. You don’t need to show like a professional. You need to show like someone who understands their breed. That means correct speed, stack, silhouette, and the correct rhythm for your breed. You can’t do this if you don’t know the words and how to use them.
Every detail is a chance to reinforce your dog’s virtues. And every time you do it right, you’re modeling for the next generation of exhibitors.
When I requested on my post, “Tell me WHY you won,” I wasn’t just looking for better brags. I was offering a way to build a better foundation.
This sport was built on thoughtful, intentional teaching.
It was built on time spent ringside with someone who cared enough to explain.
It was also built on someone saying:
That’s how we preserve our breeds, raise better handlers, and carry our traditions forward.
So, the next time you win, take a moment. Recall your Standard. Quote it. Apply it. Then share that with your brag. Show us that your dog didn’t just win, show and tell us why your dog deserved to win.
That’s the kind of win that teaches. And that’s the kind of exhibitor who leaves a mark.
