06/13/2026
One of the hardest things about loving a good dog is realizing you’ll eventually run out of time before you run out of dreams.
Tavi is teaching me that lesson long before I am ready to learn it. There are always more titles to earn, more places to go, more goals to chase, and more things you want to experience together. And there is never enough time.
For years, I’ve carried a lot of pressure because of that realization. I wanted to do right by him. I wanted to be the handler he deserved. I wanted to give him every opportunity possible and help him reach his potential. Sometimes that pressure showed up as tears after a trial. Sometimes it showed up as tears during one. On the surface, it probably looked like I was upset about a missed hide, a mistake, or a run that didn’t go according to plan. But if I’m honest, those moments were rarely about the performance itself. What I was really grieving was time.
I knew there would never be enough of it. There were so many things I wanted us to do together, and at some point I realized there was no way we’d ever get to all of them. Every mistake felt bigger because I knew our opportunities weren’t unlimited. For a long time, I let that weight steal some of the joy from the journey. I put pressure on myself to train more, improve faster, make every opportunity count, and not waste the time we had.
As a trainer, I hear versions of that same feeling from students all the time. They worry they’re making mistakes. They worry they’re progressing too slowly. They worry they’re letting their dogs down. More often than not, I find myself giving them the same reminder I’m still trying to teach myself. Our dogs don’t care about scores, ribbons, titles, or accomplishments. They don’t spend the drive home thinking about whether they qualified or where they placed. They care about the experience. They care about spending time with us doing something they love.
I know that to be true. I tell people that all the time. But sometimes it’s a lot easier to believe it for someone else’s dog than it is for your own.
The irony is that while I’ve spent years worrying about whether I gave Tavi enough, he’s already given me more than I could ever repay. He introduced me to a sport that changed my life. He pushed me to learn more, ask better questions, and become a better trainer. The opportunities I’ve had, the people I’ve met, the students I’ve taught, and even the direction of my career can all be traced back to a dog who simply loved to search. He changed the course of my life.
Maybe that’s another lesson he’s spent years trying to teach me. The standard I’ve been holding myself to was never the standard Tavi was holding me to. He never cared about titles, scores, ribbons, or accomplishments. He cared that we showed up together.
One day there will be a last search, a last trial, a last road trip, and a last time I watch him work odor. I probably won’t know it’s the last one when it happens. When that day comes, I don’t think I’ll be wishing we’d earned one more title or found one more hide. I’ll be grateful for the years we had, the adventures we shared, and the partnership we built together.
Because if Tavi has taught me anything over the last ten years, it’s that the real success was never what we accomplished together. It was that we got to do it together at all. 💛
📸: Sandem Photography