Going for the Blue (3 page)

Puppy mills are an evil, ugly concept. It is mass breeding without regard for bloodlines and with the dogs usually terribly
mistreated. It is difficult to imagine how bad they are until you have seen some. I have personally inspected scores of them
and have never encountered one with so much as a single redeeming quality. They are concentration camps for ill, undersocialized
puppies often set to be shipped weeks before it is even legal to do so. Typically the dogs from puppy mills and hence pet
shops are sickly, and they must have thousands of dollars spent on them before they have even the slightest chance of being
healthy. I can’t say it has never happened, but a pet shop-puppy mill dog making it in any show or other form of competition
is an extraordinarily rare event. They are the surplus purebred dogs we encounter in municipal control facilities or humane
shelters and they deserve all the help and support we can give them. They are, however, not the show dogs we are contemplating
here and should never be allowed to reproduce. The point can’t be stressed often enough. However splendid a dog—any dog—may
be, the idea is not to propagate genetic disasters. Dog shows have exactly the opposite goal.

EARLY HISTORY

Some further thoughts on a historical perspective. We should at least try to get these things in order.

If the dog was first developed and started on its way toward breed differentiation even as recently as fifteen thousand years
ago, around thirteen thousand B.C., and Christopher Columbus didn’t set sail for the New World until high tide on Friday afternoon,
August 3, 1492, how is it that dogs were given ritual burials in areas that are now Idaho and Nantucket Island, eight thousand
and four thousand years ago, respectively? How did dogs make incredible journeys millennia before Europeans? Almost certainly
they didn’t. It is a long walk (and a daunting swim) from Babylon to Boston. Consider some of the moves that would have to
have been made if the “Middle East-little wolf only” scenario is accepted: from thence east to Tibet; then to somewhere in
the South Pacific to link up with primitive navigators about to invade Australia, bringing their dogs (dingoes) with them
(I have seen pariah-type dogs in the longhouses of mountainous areas of Borneo that matched the pariah dogs of Africa and
mainland Asia). To North America eight thousand years ago, a site in Idaho called Jaguar Cave, where ritual burials took place,
and then three or four thousand years later off the coast of what is now Massachusetts. To Peru, the high Andes, to live and
evolve among the Inca; to central Mexico to live and evolve among the Aztec, Quantapec, and Toltec and their kin, and south
of there to live and evolve among the Mayan peoples; with the Plains Indians in North America. In northern Japan; possibly
in the New Guinea Highlands; and in areas of Africa not identified because they accompanied that vast continent’s nomadic
tribes and were probably used as trade goods.

One way or another, dogs got to those places, and in each and every one of them evolved according to the opportunities man
provided. Our knowledge of all this is a patchwork of truths—we think—and not just a few maybes. In fact, we don’t know much
about this part of it at all. It is highly probable that dogs were on their way toward becoming hundreds of different breeds,
perhaps thousands, in a great many parts of the world within the same time period, give or take a couple thousand years. No
one kept a log or a studbook. There was no PKC—Paleolithic Kennel Club.

From time to time a venerable and distinguished scientist has come forth with the theory that the pretty little golden jackal
(
Canis aureus
) of the African savanna was as ancestral to our dog as the wolf is or even more directly. No one seems to hold on to that
theory for long. Typically, the distinguished and venerable scientist eventually apologizes and goes back to the wolf theory
with something akin to his tail between his legs. I must say that the few times I have encountered the golden jackal in the
wild and have been looked in the eye by them, there was the feeling of dog about them. Steady and intelligent, they pad off
at a slow and deliberate trot into deeper grass. Wolves are somewhat like that, too, although they have the added dimension
of their pack behavior, their social interactions.

By way of keeping our perspective and perhaps thoroughly confusing just about everybody: there are claims for true dog remains
in North Africa 80,000 years ago (almost impossible to believe); in Europe, generally 17,000 years ago (that would be at least
possible in the context of the Middle East claim of 15,000 years ago); in England, 7,500 years ago (that would be OK); in
Zhoukoudian, China, 30,000 years ago (another tough one to imagine). Berber nomads are said to have had an active traffic
in dogs 10,000 years ago, including Greyhound, Basenji, and small guard and herding dogs (again, OK); France, it has been
suggested, 150,000 years ago (about ten times the conventional Middle East figure—well before there were
Homo sapiens
); Kent, England, 400,000 years ago! That last figure, for Kent, is almost certainly one of two things, fiction or fascinating
error. When this symbiosis between man and dog really did get under way remains a matter of best guess. We do know that by
four thousand years ago Greyhound-type and Mastiff-type dogs were established, as well as guard types other than Mastiffs,
Sheepdogs, and, surprisingly, lap dogs.

Dogs, almost from the beginning, began splitting off into new breeds, of which we know none from the very early years. Just
as with so many wild animal species, dog breeds have become extinct, being replaced by the natural forces of evolution. We
think we know some basic breeds from seven to ten thousand years ago—the Ibizan Hound, the Saluki, and the Samoyed are possible
examples—but nothing very much earlier than that can be spoken of with confidence.

WRIT IN BLACK AND WHITE

Many standards leave room for interpretation. For example, in the AKC standard for the Pointer we find: “The skull is of medium
width approximately as wide as the length of the muzzle.” Again,
approximately
leaves room for opinion rather than precision. There is no way of excising opinion and taste from dog-show judging any more
than from an art competition or a chili cook-off. Nor would it necessarily be a good thing to do so, to stymie evolution by
muffling the opinions of knowledgeable dog people.

Over the years, purebred dogs have changed, some breeds far more than others. In no small way those changes, constituting
a form of evolution, have been the result of opinions and aesthetics. No dog standard is carved in stone. It is just a matter
of taste, and although it can hang around for a long time, it is subject to evolution born of human judgment—or, or course,
misjudgment. An outstanding show dog is a living, breathing wonder, and which dog is best and should be used to carry forward
its breed’s genes has to be decided, ultimately, by very doggy people: judges, breeders, and handlers. The dogs are usually
willing and able. In real life, one dog doesn’t look good to another in terms of a printed standard. But they sure can smell
nice.

Many standards encourage judges to use their own judgment, the decision thereby gaining the value of their individual experience.
In the AKC standard for the English Springer Spaniel we find this mandate: “The head is impressive without being heavy. Its
beauty lies in the combination of strength and refinement. It is important that the size and proportion be in balance with
the rest of the dog. Viewed in profile, the head should appear approximately the same length as the neck and should blend
with the body and substance.” This leaves a lot of room for opinion!

And even more room in the standard for the Great Dane. It is described by the AKC as “of great size, powerful, well-balanced,
elegant, dignified, courageous, friendly.” That is not just a standard, it is an ode. That big guy sounds like someone I would
like to know and sculpt.

A standard today is worth one hundred points in the ring if perfectly met (these points have nothing to do with standard points).
Every dog and handler who enters the ring does so with the intention of convincing a judge that he or she has cast eyes on
a rare one hundred-point dog. The judge frequently disagrees but is, I am sure, grateful for the opportunity.

Color can be an important aspect of standards. There are many breeds that we generally think of as pure black—at least, most
people seem to see them that way. They are certain that a solid black coat has been mandated by the standards. In many breeds,
black is just one of several solid colors allowed. The Newfoundland (usually but not inevitably black) and the extremely popular
Labrador Retriever are examples. Others are the Pointer (albeit rare as solid black), Curly-Coated Retriever, Flat-Coated
Retriever, Cocker Spaniel (one of the legitimate varieties of the Cocker Spaniel for show purposes is ASCOB, “any solid color
other than black”). Included as well are the Field Spaniel, Afghan Hound, Basenji, Irish Wolfhound, Bearded Collie, Belgian
Sheepdog, Bouvier des Flandres, Briard, Schnauzer (Giant, Standard, and Miniature), Great Dane, Puli, Scottish Terrier, Affenpinscher,
Brussels Griffon, Pekingese, Pomeranian, Poodles (Toy, Miniature, and Standard), Pug, Chow Chow, and Schipperke. In the black
version of some breeds, solid black (known as a self-color: all one color but with some lighter shadings allowed—indeed, expected)
is mandated, but allowances are made for slight deviations. Only one breed standard is rigid when it states that solid black
is an essential point on the way to perfection. Under the heading Disqualification, the first of three devilments listed for
this breed is “any color other than solid black.” And that breed, the AKC’s only truly, unwaveringly black dog, is the little
Dutch and Belgian barge watchdog, the Schipperke. A black Labrador may have a small white spot or mark on the chest and, like
other breeds, may have a few white or gray hairs between the toes, the fewer the better. But not the Little Skipper, the diminutive
version of a black Sheepdog from the Flemish provinces of Belgium. (Terrific dog, by the way, very long-lived.)

The whole matter of color can be confusing to newcomers, and it is a good plan to keep a book of standards close at hand.
Even in breeds where color is not defined and supposedly carries no influence on how highly the dog is judged, it can matter.
A dog show is a show, and in show business flash and glitz count—up to a point, and unofficially; glitz is not mentioned in
the standards. A flashy dog—all other things being equal, the dog being well put together with good movement—attracts and
holds the attention of the judge and the ringside observers. Surely no judge worthy of the title will overlook cardinal sins
like narrow chest, snippy muzzle (pointed when it should be squarish), an overshot or undershot bite, or a dog that paddles
or weaves when it moves, just because it has a flashy symmetrical pattern of sharp, bright colors. Glitz also does nothing
to excuse bad manners, and a judge with blood dripping from a punctured hand will not likely be intolerant of
pretty
for its own sake.