Kindness Is Free

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86 – June, 2025

By Caroline Coile

Fifty years ago I made a promise to myself, one I considered so important I actually wrote it down and saved it. It read: “If I stay in dogs, I will never treat people like I have been treated.”

I’d like to think I’ve lived up to it. I’d like to think there’s no longer any reason for somebody starting in dogs today to have to make such a promise for their future. I’d like to think I’m not a moron for just quitting instead. And I’m sorry I ever had to write such a thing.

I started my journey in dog shows at an unfortunate age: still in high school, not from a dog family, too old to be cute, too shy to try Juniors at this late stage, and too young to get any welcome from the adults in my breed. I also made the “mistake” of buying my show Saluki from the other side of the country, instead of from the local breeders–a move that gave them no cause to help me.

I was not welcomed. I still remember all too vividly some examples: Me receiving a breeder’s unsolicited opinion of my puppy: “Return him if you can get your money back. Otherwise, there’s the pound.” (But I was already in love, so I decided to keep him for obedience. He ended up in the Top 10 in conformation for several years). Me working up my courage to tell a Saluki breeder how nice her BIS dog was, to which the reply was a haughty, “How would YOU know?” (You know–she was right. In hindsight, he sucked). Me holding back the tears as this same great breeder told everyone at the field trial how awful my dog (the love of my life) and his sire were. Me being thrilled to show under my first breeder-judge; even more thrilled that she greeted me with a pleasant “Good morning” to which I replied the same–only to be given a scornful admonition that she was “talking to the dog, not you.” Me looking forward to the Thanksgiving celebration held at a field trial, only to be told it was for “friends only”– which from the looks of it, meant everybody else there–while I was directed to camp in a mosquito-swarming swamp just far enough to hear the festivities as I ate my Thanksgiving hard-boiled egg. And me waiting patiently to ask a breeder for advice, only to realize I could stand there for an hour and never be acknowledged. That one happened a lot before I finally gave up.

Click here to read the complete article
86 – June, 2025

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