Not just a triumph, not just a stepping stone to a higher title, not just an adjunct to competitive scores, a title is a tribute to the dog that bears it, a way to honor the dog, an ultimate memorial. It will remain, in the record and in the memory, for about as long as anything in this world can remain. Few humans will do as well or better in that regard. And though the dog himself doesn’t know or care that his achievements have been noted, a title says many things in the world of humans, where such things count.
A title says your dog is intelligent, and adaptable, and good-natured. It says that your dog loves you enough to do the things that please you, however crazy they may sometimes seem. And a title says that you love your dog, that you love to spend time with him because they’re a good dog, and that you believe in them enough to give them yet another chance when they’ve failed, and that, in the end, your faith is justified.
A title proves that your dog has inspired you to that special relationship enjoyed by so few; that in a world of disposable creatures, this dog with a title is greatly loved, and loves greatly in return. And when that dear short life is over, the title remains as a memorial of the finest kind, the best you can give to a deserving friend, volumes of praise in one small set of initials after the name.
An obedience title is nothing less than the love and respect, given and received and recorded permanently.