" What Is A Title Really?" by Sandy Mowery
Not just a brag, not just a stepping stone to a higher Title, not just an adjunct to competitive scores.
A Title is a tribute to the dog that bears it, a way to honor the dog, an ultimate memorial. It will remain in the record and in the memory for about as long as anything in this world can remain. Few humans will do as well or better in that regard. And though the dog himself doesn't know or care that his achievements have been noted, a Title says many things in the world of humans, where such things count.
A Title says your dog was intelligent, and adaptable, and good-natured. It says that your dog loved you enough to do the things that please you, however crazy they may have sometimes seemed. And a Title says that you loved your dog, that you loved to spend time with him because he was a good dog, and that you believed in him enough to give him yet another chance when he failed, and that in the end your faith was justified.
A Title proves that your dog inspired you to have the special relationship enjoyed by so few; that in a world of disposable creatures, this dog with a Title was greatly loved, and loved greatly in return. And when that dear short life is over, the Title remains as a memorial of the finest kind, the best you can give to a deserving friend, volumes of praise in one small set of initials before or after the name.
A Title is nothing less than love and respect, given and received permanently.
When I first read this I agreed completely. A title is a tribute to a dog and to the relationship that you have with that dog. It means that your dog was smart and adaptable and loved you enough to work for you. It means that you loved your dog and believed in your dog enough to spend the time and money it takes to earn titles. These are the reasons that I want titles for my dogs. And the drive for titles is why I am carefully thinking about my next dog.A Title is a tribute to the dog that bears it, a way to honor the dog, an ultimate memorial. It will remain in the record and in the memory for about as long as anything in this world can remain. Few humans will do as well or better in that regard. And though the dog himself doesn't know or care that his achievements have been noted, a Title says many things in the world of humans, where such things count.
A Title says your dog was intelligent, and adaptable, and good-natured. It says that your dog loved you enough to do the things that please you, however crazy they may have sometimes seemed. And a Title says that you loved your dog, that you loved to spend time with him because he was a good dog, and that you believed in him enough to give him yet another chance when he failed, and that in the end your faith was justified.
A Title proves that your dog inspired you to have the special relationship enjoyed by so few; that in a world of disposable creatures, this dog with a Title was greatly loved, and loved greatly in return. And when that dear short life is over, the Title remains as a memorial of the finest kind, the best you can give to a deserving friend, volumes of praise in one small set of initials before or after the name.
A Title is nothing less than love and respect, given and received permanently.
But as I thought about this more, I realized that this isn't always true. There are many people who have titles on their dogs who do not necessarily do it because they love their dog. They do it because they love the titles and what having dogs with titles means for them as individuals. I think that this is a minority in the competitive dog world, but these people do exist.
I think that people like me, with dogs like Abby, is the other argument to this article. I spent a lot of time and a lot of money working with Abby in agility and we have no titles to show for it. I am spending even more time, and even more money with Abby in Rally, and we may never get a title there either. This doesn't mean that I don't love Abby enough, or that I don't believe in her enough. It also doesn't mean that Abby isn't smart enough or adaptable enough. And it sure as hell doesn't mean that I haven't worked with her enough to get those letters.
Even though I know that having titles doesn't matter and it doesn't prove my love or dedication to my dog, I still want them. I want them because of what it means to other people. A title will go into a record book, one that no one ever reads, but it will be there. And it will show that this Italian Greyhound called Abby did something special. Few people will ever know exactly how special it is or how much we worked through to earn those letters, but I will know. And while I am proud of Abby almost every day, a title will not only prove that Abby can do something special, it will prove that together, we can do something special.
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