From The CC Vault: Tell Me Again, Why Are We Doing This?

by Chris Robinson

Originally published: September 2012

Albert Einstein is credited with having said that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Whether Einstein actually made this statement or, as some have suggested, it came from Benjamin Franklin or neither of these renowned gentlemen ever said any such thing, it sounds a lot like something that easily could have come from the mouth of frustrated dog owners trying to finish a title on their pooch.

I have not been immune to making the statement in the headline or its close cousin “Are we having fun yet?” One of my dogs took two years to complete his senior hunter title, not because he wasn’t talented and not because he wasn’t capable of doing the work but simply because he had way too much fun doing it. His desire to create fun for himself and also the gallery often got in the way of his being able to concentrate enough on getting the job done in a fashion that would result in an orange ribbon. To be fair, there were several tests where he was the victim of bad luck or more frequently bad judging but in the main, it was his “Let me entertain you” philosophy that got in the way of earning a qualifying score.

He was perfect in practice, seldom, if ever, putting a foot down wrong and he was an absolute gem as a hunting dog. But when he arrived at a hunt test site, something about the atmosphere caused his personality to undergo a 180 degree change from the serious, hardworking, focused dog that he was when we were actually hunting or training for a test to something bearing a close resemblance to Stan Laurel, the Marx Brothers and Red Skelton as well as, at times, to Larry, Moe and Curly. Things could be sailing along at a test like the finest clipper on a fresh breeze when he’d get a sort of sly look on his face and I’d know, without the slightest of doubts, that we were once again headed for another journey up that most famous of creeks (or cricks, as they’re called in my part of the country) without an oar. The real frustration was not so much that he had a goofy streak but that when he put his mind to it, his ability to do the work resulted spectacular scores. It was like he viewed hunting as “real” and hunt tests as “phony” and not to be taken seriously, which, of course, is true, but you don’t expect dogs to have figured that out.

His futility at the senior hunt test level was exceeded only by that of a person I met while taking another of my dogs through utility in obedience. While I was lamenting the fact that my dog was earning a qualifying score only about once out of every four times he entered the ring, she related her tale of woe. She started by saying that it had required 29 obedience trials for her dog to earn his UD and she was not working with a hound or a terrier or any other breed that is reputed to be not terribly competitive in obedience but rather a Golden Retriever, one of the sport’s superstar breeds. What drove her nearly to distraction, she said, was the fact that it was never the same exercise that he’d mess up at a trial so she was not able to focus on one or two weak areas and find ways to resolve whatever issues the dog had with those exercises.

He was extremely creative in finding ways to not earn a qualifying score. She then recounted some of his better efforts. One time, on the directed jumping exercise, he made four “pressure spins” on the go-out, despite never having worn an electronic collar in his life, then refused to sit at all when he reached the end of the mat. On this same exercise, when directed to take the high jump first, he ran half way down the mat to the jump, stopped, turned, ran across the ring, circled back to give himself a good approach and took the bar jump. On another occasion, on the directed retrieve exercise, he raced out to the correct glove, picked it up, flung it out of the ring and then trotted over to the other two which he gathered up and brought back to her. A few trials later in that same year, on the same exercise, despite her best efforts he refused to look at the glove she was trying to point him toward, the one on the far left, and when released, ran over to the glove on the far right, picked it up and brought it back to the judge. Another time, during the signal exercise, he sat when signaled to “down,” then when signaled to stand up again, went down and rolled on his back with all four feet in the air. At least twice, on the scent articles exercise, he picked up every article in the pile and threw it around the ring. Once, she said, he absolutely nailed the correct article instantly but instead of bringing it back to her, he ran out of the ring and handed it to a complete stranger in the gallery.

What made his performances so exasperating, she said, was that he had earned a qualifying score of 199 the very first time he ever ran in a utility trial and he’d never pull any of his tricks in training. In fact, she said, on the rare occasion when he did earn a qualifying score, his lowest was a 198. She said every possible remedy in the book and some that weren’t were tried to get him to screw up in training so she could get in a really good correction including taking him to another training site with a lot of different dogs and setting up a conformation class right next to the utility ring to make him think he was at a dog show. He never fell for that ruse or any other that she tried, for that matter. She said she even gave him six months off from obedience training during which she did some field work and agility with him before returning to try and get that one last qualifying score for his UD. The “vacation,” she said, only served to provide him with more time to think up new ways to non-qualify. The dog went on to earn his master hunter title and several advanced agility titles after he finally got his UD so it was clear he wasn’t stupid. Counting travel expenses, entry fees, motel bills and training expenses, she estimated that his utility dog title cost her more than $15,000. About half way through this ordeal, and it was indeed an ordeal, she said it began to dawn on her that maybe obedience just wasn’t his “thing” but she found that hard to believe because he had earned both his CD and CDX in the minimum number of trials with no score less than a 197 and he seemed to have an absolute whee of a time whenever they went to obedience class; showing off his utility skills for the other dogs, their handlers and the instructors. Her assessment of why, in the face of all the adversity and evidence that he was “giving her the business,” she continued to try was “Well, either I was nuts or I was determined to prove to him that I was more stubborn than he was which, when you think about it, lends even more credence to the mental instability explanation.”

Some friends of mine had a similar experience with a yellow Labrador as they tried to finish her master hunter title. The dog was a qualified all-age dog in retriever field trials and needed only an all-breed win to become an amateur field champion but, for some reason, hunt tests had her completely buffaloed. There was something about hunt tests that had her totally “wired” from the time she hit the test grounds until she left. It took 18 tests for her to garner the necessary number of qualifying scores she needed for the title.

She behaved perfectly at field trials and was frequently in the ribbons where the tests were much more difficult and complex than at the hunt tests. But for reasons only known to the Labrador, she often became brain dead at hunt tests. She would break when just the week before at a field trial she had been steady as a rock with much more temptation to break on the birds. She would give her owners multiple cast refusals on even the simplest blinds while at field trials, she would stop on every whistle and take virtually every cast correctly. If the hunt test happened to include a hunt, she would not quarter the field but rather would fly around the entire test site saying “Hi” to every gunner, completely out of gun range and totally ignoring any commands from her owners to return.

When asked why they continued to chase an MH with this dog, the answer was, “Well, two things. First, we were beginning to be convinced that the politics in the retriever field trial world were against us after she had clearly turned in the best performance at several field trials in the amateur stake and was denied the win in favor of a black Labrador male. This was not, incidentally, our opinion but rather the opinion of several folks who were also field trial judges who saw her performance. We also thought she deserved to have a field title of some sort. The second reason was that just about the time we were totally discouraged and thinking that we should throw in the towel with her as a hunt test dog, she would turn in a spectacular performance and get another orange ribbon. Some dogs have a funny way of doing that to you. Just about the time you’re ready to give up, they do something to rekindle that little spark of hope in you that a title is not a complete impossibility.”

A lady who had a really elegant Pharaoh Hound told me she nearly packed it in with her dog in lure coursing several times before the dog finally earned his junior coursing title because this dog had determined that the sport was merely a “trick” game and he could beat it. She said he got the first leg on his JC the first time she ran him and she thought getting his junior coursing title would be a cakewalk. Wrong! It only took that one time and he had the game figured out in all the wrong ways. His biggest problem was that he could figure out where the lure would wind up. So, at the “tally-ho” she’d release him, he’d run a few steps after the lure, then stop and watch it. Once he determined where it was going, he’d run to the terminal point to intercept it. She said it was difficult to get angry with a dog that had that much savvy but being smart in that way didn’t help get his JC. Every now and then, when he decided to humor his owner, he’d chase the lure all the way to its terminus and he finally did well enough to earn his title but that was as far as he went in the AKC’s coursing program.

Luckily for her and her hound, she lived close enough to a state where open field coursing was permitted and, in that sport, the dog was a star. Jackrabbits turned him on. Plastic bags held no thrill.

A West Highland White Terrier person told me that it took more than a dozen earthdog events, after his dog had earned his first qualifying score at his first test, before he was able to convince his Westie that the game had to be played by going down in the tunnel, following it to the end and barking at the rats. His dog much preferred to follow the scent to the tunnel opening, then run above ground to the trap at the tunnel’s end where the quarry was located and bark his head off at the unseen but thoroughly scented out rats.

So what did all these dog owners have in common? A trait that is actually scored in hunt tests—perseverance—although in those events, it is the dog whose perseverance is being evaluated, not the dog’s owner. Webster defines perseverance as “continued effort to do or achieve something despite difficulties, failure or opposition,” certainly a definition that applies to these dog owners. Of course, other, less charitable people such as non-dog owners, might apply a totally different description to these folks and that would be “loony.” Still, as archaic as the concept of perseverance might be in this era of instant gratification, there is something to be said for the intense feeling of accomplishment you get when finally, at long last, the goal you have set for both the dog and yourself is achieved. In the dog world, it really doesn’t get any better than that!

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