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KNPV Reflections

Jim Engel, December 1996


In my memories of European travel there is a tendency to focus on the big events, the championships, the famous dogs, meeting the men and women who have been built up to legendary stature in your expectations.

But for me, after all of these years, it is the little events, the small exchanges of conversation, that have made the deepest impressions in my mind and in my heart.

Like it was yesterday I remember standing by a ring in Belgium watching a wonderful Malinois perform in the most fascinating ritual of the working dog world, the Belgian Ring trial. Schutzhund is precise, demanding and dramatic. KNPV is practical, down to earth and powerful. French ring is spectacular, athletic and impressive. But Belgian ring is a chess game between the handler and the dog on one side and the judge and the helper on the other. The rules and traditions are subtle and elusive, and I am sure to the novice it would seem that not much is going on. But for those of us who have trained a few dogs it is an intricate drama, almost a trial field morality play.

The dog on the field, called Clip, was the current Belgian champion, so we had the pleasure of seeing the sport at its best. Later I was to learn from my Malinois friends that this dog called Clip is very famous. Perhaps there was a tiny edge of envy in their voice, but for me he was just an excellent dog enjoying his work on a warm, sunny afternoon on the tiny Belgian trial field.

But what I carried forward from that day was a few words exchanged with a little old man standing with us by the ring. I don't remember all of the details, I suppose Alfons or Erik translated a few words, but what he said was that he remembered when there were Bouviers in Belgium, remembered Edmund Moreaux and Francoeur de Liege. This would have been half a century in the past, but it seemed like we were talking about the previous week. And of course, in this context, for this man, if a dog was not in the ring, did not work, it did not exist. I am sure that little old man, if he is still alive, has no recollection of a strange American, but for me it is one of those moments locked in time, like when Kennedy or King were shot.

Other memories center on the KNPV field. For most of us, this brings back images of the long attack against the stick or the gun, or the call off, and indeed these are spectacular tests. But much of the KNPV aura is in the simple, straightforward demeanor of the men and the dogs. At the KNPV club a dog is what he does on the field, and a man is respected for his suit work and his training. Other than Caya, I can not recall seeing another woman in a trial. Women are active participants in IPO, but very unusual in the older sports. These are very traditional sports, and change comes slowly, which for the most part is good. ( One of the most serious problems with IPO is the incessant tinkering with the rules. )

There are of course problems in the world of KNPV, for we hear of very violent training methods and even rumors of a death on the training field. The intensity is high, and of course there is always a human being willing to do whatever he thinks is necessary to win. But most of the trainers truly put their dogs first and exhibit a sportsmanlike attitude.

Part of the training ritual is sitting in a group afterward drinking coffee or sometimes a beer. There is usually a little club house or a converted trailer that holds the equipment, but sometimes you just sit around on chairs on a warm night.

Today almost all of the dogs are Malinois, with only about ten of seven or eight hundred titles going to a Bouvier in a typical year. Sitting around, staring into a half empty cup of coffee, most trainers will eventually speak of the Bouviers of the past, and a surpassingly large number have trained or titled a Bouvier at one time or another. Surely some of this is to make an American Bouvier enthusiast feel more at home, but there is nevertheless a true love for the breed and a sadness at its decline. Just as with the little old man in Belgium, a dog is what he does on the field, and for these men the Bouvier is an old friend dying.

In Atlanta over the weekend, at the American KNPV annual gathering, there were many old friends and the opportunity to meet people only spoken to on the phone or known by their reputation. Among them were a number of KNPV judges and trainers, one or two of whom I have known in Holland and others with which one could establish a certain rapport through conversations about mutual friends.

My enthusiasm for the Bouvier brought forward a certain sense of foreboding, and several of these men mentioned the fact that beginning in the year 2000 tails will no longer be docked in the Netherlands. I have of course known this, and heard many trainers mention that they could not accept a Bouvier with a long tail, and that they expected that this could be the final nail in the coffin. Perhaps it was only a trick of the mind, but a couple of times I thought I heard these men refer to the Bouvier in the past tense. In their way of speech, it was almost as if there had been a death in the family.

In my mind it is the sword of Damocles, for with the real Bouvier on the edge of extinction in Belgium and probably France, the fragile Dutch police lines are the last thing standing between the breed and oblivion as a working dog.

In twenty years, I have never been so discouraged.

Jim Engel, Marengo    © Copyright 1996