The Comparison Trap: Why We Need to Stop Looking Sideways
It’s something I’ve seen time and time again, not just in the dog training world, but in my own life as an amateur rider too. Why do we constantly compare ourselves to others? Why do we care so much about what other people are doing, achieving, or thinking? It really struck me last week during a training class, while chatting to a client. We were talking about progress, expectations, and that quiet pressure that creeps in when you look around and feel like everyone else is “getting it” quicker than you. And it made me realise… we never really stop doing it.
The Highlight Reel Problem
From the outside, it can look like everyone else has it figured out. The dog that walks perfectly to heel. The instant recall. The calm, steady focus in busy environments. And suddenly, without even meaning to, we start measuring ourselves against that. This kind of comparison is something humans naturally do, often without even realising it (Festinger, 1954). But what we don’t see is everything behind it. We don’t see the months of work. The setbacks. The moments of frustration. The days where nothing quite goes to plan. And more importantly, we don’t see the dog in front of them… and how different that dog is to ours.
Every Dog, Every Handler, Every Journey
Because just like people, dogs are individuals. Some dogs will naturally find certain things easier. Some are more sensitive. Some are more driven. Some find the world overwhelming. Some take everything in their stride. That doesn’t make one dog “better” than another. It just makes them different. And the same goes for us. We all have different experience levels, different lifestyles, different pressures, and different amounts of time we can realistically put into training. Comparing one journey to another will never give you a fair picture. In both the dog world and the equestrian world, it’s so easy to get caught up in what it “should” look like. But training isn’t a straight line. It never has been. Progress isn’t always fast. It isn’t always pretty. And it definitely isn’t the same for everyone. Because your job isn’t to have the “best” dog in the class. Your job is to understand the dog in front of you, not the one next to you.
Refocusing on What Really Matters
Some dogs will fly through recall but struggle to settle. Some will be calm at home but find the outside world difficult. Some will take weeks, months, even longer to build confidence in something that another dog finds easy in a day. And that’s okay. Because your job isn’t to have the “best” dog in the class. Your job is to understand the dog in front of you. The moment we stop comparing and start focusing on our own dog, everything changes. You notice the small wins. The moments of progress that actually matter. The tiny shifts that build into something bigger over time. That glance back to you instead of the distraction. That one extra second of focus. That decision to choose you over the environment. Those are the things that count. Comparison has a way of taking away from our ability to recognise our own progress, even when it’s right in front of us (Brown, 2010). Your dog doesn’t care what anyone else is doing. They don’t care how fast another dog learned something. They don’t care what it looks like to anyone watching. They just need you. Your consistency. Your understanding. Your patience. So next time you feel that comparison creeping in, take a step back. Look at your dog. Look at how far they’ve come. Look at what you’ve built together. Because that journey? That’s the one that matters.
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