Seeing Eyes — and Quality

It seems that, wherever you are in the world, the constantly heard complaint is that we need more dog judges, and those we have aren’t as good as those we’ve lost.

It is logical that if we organize more dog shows — did I hear “too many!” ringing from the rafters? — then we need more judges to officiate. In the absence of the opportunities for hands-on experience with large numbers of dogs that past generations may have enjoyed, there has to be an alternative method of educating judges, and so the formal seminar system is enjoying a heyday. Everyone wants to be educated, and everyone wants to be a specialist in everything!

Great … the more knowledge anyone has on their subject, the better placed they are to pass an informed opinion. Yet it would seem that modern times have turned what is essentially — in my opinion — an art, into a science. Counting teeth and grading shades of eye color, approaching dogs armed with rulers and protractors, may be considered advisable in some countries, but to me this has always resulted in a lack of ability to see the forest for the proverbial trees.

As our newer judges approach their chosen task with a tick-box mentality, it strikes me that fewer and fewer seem concerned with the one word that seldom occurs in any breed standard, yet remains a pivotal point of the judging process, and I speak of Quality.

Yes, Quality, the indefinable asset that should be instantly recognizable, and which was memorably summarized by my late and much-missed mentor Nigel Aubrey Jones as being “the difference between pottery and porcelain.”

Generally, in days gone by, the great judges of their time were acknowledged as having an instinctive “eye,” which was tuned in to quality to such an extent that whenever it was present in their ring, it was never missed. Be it in a breed or variety situation, the dogs that possessed great refinement and class, a harmony throughout, were always recognized by such judges, and when they could find more than one in a class, then they got down to comparison and evaluation by detail.

Today we spend so much time drumming into our newer judges the importance of individual breed characteristics (all of which are important when seen in perspective) that when they come to practice their art, they get so bogged down with searching out a particular eye shape, marking or coat texture that they seem blind to the obvious. The desire to recognize individual component parts has eclipsed the more meaningful search for the harmonious whole that thrills the eye and causes the hair to stand on end.

I remember watching someone judge in the company of some of my colleagues who were also standing ringside. The lady in question had been thorough in going over the individual dogs, had watched them move extensively, then stood back and we assumed was about to place the dogs in order. Instead, she returned to the dogs, poked and prodded them in various places, standing back and studying each dog intensely. We were confused. “What exactly is she doing?” I asked. One of my brighter companions replied, “She’s spent so much time pulling them to pieces, she now can’t put them back together again.” He had a very valid point.

In essence, we have far too many who look but who do not see.

“To their virtues ever kind; to their faults a little blind” is an over-worn quote within the fancy, yet it still has much merit. The quality dog, the dog who exudes an aura from every pore, will invariably not be without blemish, but the faults that might have detracted from it are carried well, so intense is the overall virtue and the inherent look of quality.

Quality will stem from various sources, but fundamentally has impeccable construction for the breed as a starting point. Head and expression will also play a major part, as even the best conformed animal can sometimes look common if its head does not bring the breed to life.

I am a great opponent of fault judging, but certain aspects of the dog contribute hugely to type in a breed, none more so than heads. The head and expression is the first and last thing judges tend to look at. It is also the part of the dog that possibly gives a dog more individuality than any other.

I often tell the story at my judging seminars of an after-show dinner when I was having a typical conversation at the judges’ dinner with an American lady. For some reason this developed into a debate as to which was more important — the head or the hindquarters! My American friend insisted that “I have to have a rear.” She would not be moved, as in her book she would forgive an indifferent head if a dog had outstanding hindquarters.

Unconvinced, I asked her politely if she had her passport in her “purse.” She did and proudly produced it. I merely glanced at the photograph therein and expressed surprise that the chosen photo was of her face rather than her legs. Eventually she got the point!

Quality is further emphasized in action. Dogs that move in such a way that their gait is utterly effortless, entirely breed specific, and indeed “poetry in motion” will have a way of going that thrills the appreciative eye, to such an extent that when these dogs move you never want them to stop. And please note that this kind of action has no relation whatsoever to speed! You will also find that the truly great dogs are constructed and conditioned in such a way that they coordinate with their first step and immediately get into their stride.

Please do not think for one moment that the foregoing in any way advocates praising unduly the generic show dog that is somewhat offbeat in type. To the educated eye, possessing classic breed type will be a major part of any dog’s ability to create and project a picture of quality. No matter how clean cut and flowing a Boxer’s outline may be, for example, if it has a head like a plank it will never come across as possessing great quality. Quality of this kind has to be breed specific.

Fast-moving flat catchers may fool judges who do not have an in-depth appreciation of what makes a breed, but the more discerning will never fall victim to the essentially untypical. It saddens me to see, as an example, Newfoundlands that are slab-sided, with sloping toplines and excessive rear angulation “flying” around the ring and ending up at the winning post.

It is a sad indictment on the sport that we appear to be developing many judges who look, yet do not see, and who are perfectly happy to accept pottery when porcelain is right there on the shelf.