Dog Shows...
Damned If You Do; Damned If You Don't

    My very first dog show was hosted by the Beverly Hills Kennel Club some 35 years ago. What a spectacularly glitzy affair! I was dazzled to know that somewhere amidst the cacophony Zsa Zsa Gabor was kissing her Vizslas and that "the lady who played Jane Hathaway on the Beverly Hillbillies" was strutting around with a pack of Bassets. I had dreamed of owning a purebred dog as long as I could remember (when I was 5, my best friend had a stunning Collie, and I was sooo jealous), and the assault on my senses was orgasmic. The excitement, the competition, the vivacious personalities -- and all those gorgeous DOGS! I thought I had died and gone to heaven! I still get some of that thrill every time I walk into a show. It's just electric.

Damned If You Do...

    When non-doggie friends ask me about dog shows, I liken them to the old childhood dream of running off to join the circus. You've got animals putting on a show, trainers, performers, ringleaders, a screaming, enthusiastic audience, and -- yes -- I've even seen people on stilts running around the show grounds. It's spectacle and entertainment; drama and comedy. Very much like a circus in some regards.

    Beyond the pageantry, however, lies the reality.  And, for a person like me, that mostly means a lot of work. Actually, it's mostly a lot of hard, dirty, frustrating, back-breaking work. Lugging crates, grooming tables, dryers, generators, 10-gallon jugs of water, dog food, mats...I could go on.  If you have one dog, there is probably five hours of really challenging work leading up to about three minutes in the ring. And that doesn't count the years you spent researching dogs, planning a mating, praying your girl gets pregnant, raising a litter, evaluating with your head instead of your heart, taking the pup to classes, baths every week, vet bills, anxiety over clearances...it's truly amazing what we go through in order to pursue the dream of breeding champion dogs.

    Of course, work with reward is worth it. Problem is, after 15+ years of pursuing this, I often have doubts that it is.

    The dark side of dog shows occurs when you begin to see the corruption hiding beneath the facade. Yes, I know there are going to be plenty of people out there who will disagree...they will tell you that if you work hard, have the best dog, are diligent and patient, really learn the ropes, know how to train, blah blah blah you will eventually triumph. And well, yes, you can. Usually very slowly and at great expense. In a conversation on an e-mail list recently, knowledgeable exhibitors suggested that it costs between $10,000 and $12,000 to get a good dog its championship. The sad thing is that for just a little more you can get any horrible example of the breed its championship. There have been dogs inducted into the Showdog Hall of Fame that should have been neutered at birth. Most breeders would agree with that statement, so luckily for the breed those really bad dogs don't become dominant in the gene pool. At least usually.

    The corruption manifests itself in many forms, but these are the ones that are bugging me today:

    1. Judges' e-mail lists. Oh, I'm sure there are valid reasons for judges to have their own e-mail lists, but unfortunately when these are used to discuss who they put up (and often they are talking about the handler, not the dog) or who they think shouldn't be winning, those conversations have a strong effect that should not be there. Human nature being what it is, i.e., social acceptance being a predominant part of who we are, causes unfair judging of exhibits before they even enter the ring. These lists need to be imploded, in my opinion. Blown up!

    2. Blatant fraternization. I'm sorry, but when you decide to become a judge, you need to STOP spending Friday and Saturday nights before your assignments having barbecues in the motorhomes of your professional handler friends, or getting drunk in the host hotel for the show with the exhibitors. You need to STOP abusing your position as the guardian of the future of a breed by having sex with exhibitors or by spending the week at their house after a show. Get it together, for heaven's sake. Clubs aren't paying you to come on an extended vacation with the guy you just gave a Group 1st to. They are paying you to understand the breeds you judge and make the most intelligent, informed decisions you can. For heaven sake, take your job seriously!

    3. Reading too many magazines. I am not so naive as to believe that marketing will ever be eliminated from showing dogs. I honestly don't even mind a good ad that shows off the dog and/or kennel and/or breeding and/or handler. I see a place for it. I just don't think judges ought to read them. A judge who knows the breed, has confidence in his decisions and isn't afraid to point to the best dog, no matter who is on the other end of the lead, is a national treasure. Instead of spending hours looking at ads in the magazines that are sent to you by the tonnage each week, buy a new book on the breed and study it. Make an appointment with a few breeders in a different area and go talk to them. Visit the National Specialty of a random breed that you are judging. Educate yourself instead of allowing the people with dollars to decide for you. Stop letting people buy your thoughts. Just stop!

    The bottom line is this. Breeding excellent representatives of the breed, in terms of conformation, temperament and breed type, is a serious, expensive, emotional and worthwhile activity for many thousands of people. Judges who do not have respect for this and who allow others to compromise their honest assessment of a dog really need to go find something else to do or remember their roots. It really does make a difference to society as a whole -- but maybe that's a subject for another rant.

Damned If You Don't...

    I can hear the voices already. "Well, if you don't like the game, don't play." And believe me, there have been times that I did come very close to giving it up completely. Part of me wants to become the rogue breeder, who quietly breeds the dogs she likes, regardless of what anyone else thinks. I can easily create a romantic vision of myself, surrounded by the best dogs in the world, all being sold on spay/neuter contracts as pets. Keeping all the wonderfulness for myself and the few puppy people. Yes, I really can be that delusional. :)

    The problem is that it is doubtful you could create the best dogs in the world in a vacuum. Dog shows were originally created to evaluate breeding stock in an unemotional, candid, critical manner, with a goal of helping breeders see the strengths and weaknesses in certain lines and understand which direction to go to improve. And, like it or not, it is the dog show community (including, quite importantly, national and local breed club members) that we breeders must turn to for that in-depth critique of our dogs.

    A few years back I mentioned to a friend that I no longer wanted to go to dog shows; I was just going to invite a group of the best breeders to my house a couple of times a year and ask them their opinions, and consult them as to which dogs they had seen that might be worth breeding to. I still think this might be a cool thing to do -- but not at the expense of eliminating dog shows.

    The fact is, dog shows still provide a virtual fountain of potentially honest evaluations that can help you set a course towards better and better dogs. Exposure to other exhibitors and their dogs and ideas always stimulates and inspires. We need the dog show world to breed the very best dogs we can -- we just need it to do a better job. We need good judges! Honest judges! Judges as passionate about the breed they are evaluating as the breeders are.

    For the moment, I'm damned because I do. I guess I can't have it any other way.

Deborah Blair-Muzzin
ABELARD