Enjoy the Journey

I don’t remember life before competition.

My father was a tennis coach, and I started playing competitive tennis at the age of 11. My mother showed dogs before me. I showed my first dog in Junior Showmanship as an 8-year-old. The benefit of starting early is that winning and losing made no difference to me, I was raised by competitors and just learned to love competing.

At my first dog show there were 4 kids in the class. We were significantly delayed waiting for the fourth child’s dog to arrive from the conformation ring. I got fourth, and came out of the ring waiving the ribbon for my mother to admire while telling her,

“I got fourth, and if that boy’s dog hadn’t shown up I’d have even gotten third!”

Although the story became one of Mom’s favorites to share in later years, she did so to share my enthusiasm, never to steal my joy.

At 10, I earned my first Novice leg on our family’s Maltese with 171 points. Green ribbon in hand, I was the happiest person at the dog show!

In my first summer on the junior tennis circuit, I never won a single’s match. The fun of traveling, practicing and competing was so tremendous, I never noticed. My parents encouraged my enthusiasm and it was 2-3 years, as I was winning more, before I realized I’d had that long losing streak.

My family lived out the plaque on our kitchen wall,

To win the game is great,
To play the game is greater,
To love the game is greatest!

By 14, I was dog crazy. My parents bought an 18-month-old female Golden Retriever for me that already had her CD and knew how to retrieve. Our bond was immediate. Consumed by everything Golden Retriever, I read that Jackie Mertens owned and trained the sixth female to earn both a Championship and three field stars - Ch. Topbrass Ad-Lib’s Bangor *** (Qualified All-Age Field Trial Competitor).

I dreamt about doing the same with Tara. I wrote her registered name in my school notebooks to see how it looked with all those titles. It never occurred to me that I was setting a ridiculously lofty goal. My attitude was, “There have been six, Tara should be the seventh!” The level of difficulty was not on my radar. It was a challenge and I intended to take it!

Becoming part of the competitive dog world was glorious for someone who had decided that High School was nothing short of social torture. Outside of school, life was delightful because of Tara, and the activities we pursued. I loved obedience class nights and assisted with classes. Mom and I spent countless weekends at dog shows. We became active members of the Flat River Retriever Club where I threw birds, marshalled, and competed with Tara in the monthly fun trials. Gracious club members took me seriously when I asked for help teaching Tara to “handle,” a skill she’d need to run field trials and earn 3 field stars.

Tara and I were wild about each other.

She never let me out of her sight, and I rarely let her out of mine. After school, she waited patiently while I studied, expecting that as soon as I finished, we would do something together, whether it was obedience in the yard, or walk to the end of the street to practice our field skills. Occasionally, I would be allowed to drive our VW Camper van to school. On those days Tara would sleep comfortably on the couch in the van while I went to class…until lunch, when I’d sneak out and drive to the pond behind the Middle School for a bit of midday training. We were completely, 100% devoted to one another and to my goal.

During High School, Tara earned her championship, her CDX, UD and two of the three field stars I coveted. To earn the third star, she needed a first or second in a Qualifying stake, and I had not been able to achieve that goal. So, following my junior year, I begged Jackie Mertens to let me come work for her in exchange for her help. After all, Jackie had owned and trained “Bang.” Jackie clearly knew what I needed to know to obtain my goal.

 🏅🏅🏅

Field Trials are only held in the spring and summer in Michigan. As the trials started in the spring of 1980, the needed first or second place continued to elude us. By August, as I was preparing to leave for college, with one trial left to run, I began dealing with the reality that our incredible journey was coming to an end, and we would not reach our goal.

Field trials consist of 4 tests, two on land, and two in the water. The hardest test for Tara was the third test, the water blind. On a blind retrieve, the dog does not see where the bird is placed, and the handler, using whistle and hand signals, must direct the dog to the bird. That day, Tara was affected by the wind and terrain, did not follow my directions, and I had to call her in without the bird- an automatic elimination.

I was devastated. I fought tears as I returned to the van to hide my disappointment. I had lost plenty of times, but this loss took my breath away.

Perhaps it was the combination of the loss and the failure to reach the goal that I had so relentlessly pursued. It just seemed impossible that the journey was over.

As we sat on the couch, Tara pushed herself into me, trying to lick the tears from my cheeks. Pulling her close, I assured her, “I love you just the same.” Sitting there, with her wrapped in my arms, her presence and affection made the joy of the journey bigger than the heartbreak.

Several minutes later, I heard a club member calling my name. I peeked out of the van to hear, “No one could do that test, the judges have scrapped it and are starting over with another water blind.”

It is uncommon, but not unusual for judges to “scrap” a test, but it seemed far too good to be true…and indeed it was. Tara was quite wonderful on the replacement water blind, and perfect in the last series, and in an ending better than any Disney movie, she won the Qualifying Stake that day and became Ch. Cimaron’s Dusty Dawn UD***.

😍😍😍

Failing to Reach a Goal

In the last 45 years, I have committed my heart and time to more than a dozen dogs. 
They have all taken me on incredible journeys. I have missed more goals than I have earned…

Once in a Lifetime

People often say, “This is my once-in-a-lifetime dog.” I understand the sentiment, but truly, every dog I’ve competed with has been that dog. Each dog has taken me on a unique and incredible journey, taught me amazing things, introduced me to new people, activities and places, all while playing a pivotal role in my life experience. Understanding this has changed the way I look at every dog. Each one brings something exceptional to the journey.

So, in 2026, as I start my journey with “Gabe,”

I am once again excited, optimistic, and enthusiastic about the journey ahead. I want to avoid mistakes I’ve made before, communicate better than I ever have, but most importantly, give my heart to another “once in a lifetime” dog that will undoubtedly give me experiences I have never had. He’s only 14-months-old, and already, I’m enjoying the journey!

As you set your own audacious goals for 2026, aim high and get excited about the journey. We look forward to helping you make steady progress. We want you to train and compete with confidence, but never forget…

“It is good to have an end to journey toward;

but in the end, it is the journey that matters.”