Breed and Behaviour Part 1: “Purebred” —What Does It Really Mean, Is It a Victorian Invention, and Does Breed Matter?

I will start this post by answering the last part of that question: Does breed matter? My answer is that yes, it does—but not in the way you might think it does, and no, it doesn’t—but not in the way you might think it doesn’t. I’ll give you a minute to reread that monster of a sentence if you need to. Done?

Okay, that’s all for today then. If you made it this far, well, first of all thank you so much for reading! Second of all, you might enjoy the rest of my blog. You can make sure you never miss a post by—

Oh yeah. We still have two other questions to tackle, and no one knows what I meant by my answer to the third, so we should probably tackle that one as well.

Fine.

Like many of my posts, this is just some musings and ramblings for discussion. I’m not really planning on making any coherent or earth-shattering arguments here. I’m not an expert in any of the relevant fields, so if you came here expecting authoritative answers, then you need to consider the source, my friend. This is just a blog, and I’m just a person with as many unasked for opinions as a corgi. I’m not an academic or even a journalist.

If anyone is still reading at this point, thank you. Let’s continue!

What is a Purebred?

Most people would answer as many dictionaries do: that a purebred is an animal whose parents are both of the same breed, not a mixture of two or more breeds. So a purebred is an animal born of purebred parents.

On its surface this definition is sufficient, but if we follow up with it, we find that we need some clarification. If both of a dog’s parents were purebred, that means that they, too, were both born of purebred parents. And if those parents were purebred, then their parents must also have been purebred. But eventually, if we keep reaching back, we’re going to get to a point where this definition no longer serves us. When did the lineage become purebred? If being purebred were merely a question of both parents being the same breed, then it would have to reach back into eternity that way. If at any point both parents of any individual in the lineage could no longer be said to be the same breed, then by this narrow definition, the entire thing would crumble generation by generation, if you follow me. So, while this definition is functional and serves us fairly well, it is not wholly satisfying.

Speakers of British English tend to use the phrase “pedigree dogs” where Americans would use “purebred dogs.” And I think that is in some ways a more apt term for what people are generally talking about: the dog in question has a traceable lineage of dogs that were also the same breed. This concept is what is presented in The Encyclopaedia Britannica:

The essential difference between purebred and nonpurebred animals is that the genealogy of purebred animals has been carefully recorded, usually in a herd book, or studbook, kept by some sanctioning association.

Britannica.com “animal breeding”

But What Else is Going On?

While the essential difference between a purebred and a nonpurebred animal may well be the recorded lineage, there is still something additional going on when we look at breeds of dogs and compare them against one another.

I found another definition that I think renders matters a little clearer, bringing up two key factors:

A breed is a group of domestic animals related through common ancestors and visibly similar in most characteristics, having been differentiated from others by human influence; a distinctive group of domesticated animals differentiated from the wild type under the influence of man, the sum of the progeny of a known and designated foundation stock without admixture of other blood.

Webster’s Third New International Dictionary of the English Language, Unabridged

(Thank you, Wikipedia, as I don’t own that particular dictionary. I don’t use Wikipedia as a source in itself, but I sure do love it as a place to find sources.)

Italics are not mine, but had those phrases not been italicised, I would have italicised them. Because those are really the two key factors that I think this all boils down to:

1. Visibly similar in most characteristics to other members of that breed
2. A known and designated foundation stock

Now…we’re going to get to the “without admixture of other blood” at some point, so I lopped that off for now.

So yes, the known and designated foundation stock is half of it. But the other half of it is the fact that the dogs have visibly similar characteristics. Within the entire dog species, there is an incredibly vast array of possible traits. So to achieve this similarity of characteristics within a breed, the scope of what is possible must necessarily be narrowed and limited. This is done by restricting the gene pool. And that’s where we come back to the other half of the concept: the known and designated lineage.

So then, both of these aspects—the visible similarity of traits and the traceable lineage—really boil down to an intentionally limited gene pool. So, for my purposes, I define a breed as a limited population of dogs which exhibit distinguishing characteristics. While there will be variation between members of the breed, they still share more similar characteristics between each other than they do with any given individual of another breed. The standard deviation within a breed is still limited when compared to the species as a whole.

Two Ends of the Spectrum

So, when the subject of dog breeds comes up, I find there are two hyperbolic opinions that tend to be expressed. I say hyperbolic, because I am sure the people who express either of these opinions understand that there is more nuance to the subject, and they’re often just making a point.

On the one hand, the purebred world likes to talk about their historic breeds. Their purebred dogs are living artefacts, conduits to the past. They are “preserving the living history of purebred dogs for future generations.” They like to point to old paintings and sculptures as evidence that their breed has existed, largely unchanged, for centuries. Some examples are a bit of a stretch, but others are remarkably clear.

At the other hand of the spectrum, many who are against the concept of purebred dogs or at least questioning of it will say that dog breeds are an entirely Victorian invention, and did not exist before then. All of the breeds we know today originated in the late 19th century, and have only gotten more and more extreme in the years since. Dogs are just dogs, and breed is only a matter of human aesthetic traits. It’s all largely marketing.

They’re both right and they’re both wrong.

But, to reiterate: I think with the exception of a few entirely uninformed people simply parroting something they heard but did not look into, both of these stances are hyperbole for the sake of illustrating a point, and the people taking either stance will already be well aware of the somewhere-in-the-middle truth.

It is unquestionable that different categories of dogs existed prior to the Victorian era, and that they were being bred for different purposes, and yes: at times, even for purely aesthetic, non-functional traits. Whether or not we can truly call them “breeds” is another thing, and it goes back to that earlier definition of purebred.

Some History

I am currently in the process of reading Mary Elizabeth Thurston’s book, The Lost History of the Canine Race, which presents a lot of very fascinating and well-researched history of the relationship between humans and dogs. Although the earliest bit is necessarily based on a lot of conjecture due to scant available evidence, subsequent chapters are very well-documented and unflinchingly examine both the bright and the dark spots of this partnership. I also highly recommend, again, one of my favourite books: Kim Brophey’s Meet Your Dog. In the Genetics section of the book she succinctly summarizes the history of each category of dog. (More on those categories in a bit.) And I can’t talk about dog history without mentioning one of my favourite books, Iris Combe’s Herding Dogs: Their Origins and Development in Britain. Obviously the scope of that book is limited to…well, you guessed it: British herding breeds. So if you truly want to dive into the history of dog breeds much more deeply and competently, those are some places you can go.

But I will give a brief and incompetent summary here.

So, early on, you had landraces. Dogs within a landrace are genetically similar to each other and share characteristics, but a landrace is still looser and more diverse than a breed. While standardized breeds are purposefully selected by humans, landraces develop gradually, over time, based on natural pressures and factors of the environment. The key difference is the lack of that human-imposed restriction on breeding, and the lack of a formalized breed standard and registry. (There are still landraces today, by the way.)

In addition to the environments they found themselves in, it appears that humans also had a role in shaping these landraces, although just how hands-on the humans were varied case by case. These early methods of breeding consisted of favouring dogs that had the traits that people wanted to see more of, and in some cases culling dogs that had undesirable traits. And by culling, I do not mean spaying/neutering and placing the dog in a pet home.

At this time, humans were not necessarily concerned whether the dogs had a certain ear-set or just the right lay of the shoulder. They favoured the dog that was the best at the task they wanted it to do. The physical traits came as a direct result of the dog’s function—which we will dive further into shortly. But for example, favouring faster dogs who were good at chasing down prey by sight was synonymous with what we might think of as the “sighthound look”: a chest which is quite narrow but achieves sufficient heart and lung capacity by being very deep; extremely low body fat; long legs; a strong, slightly curved loin; a somewhat upright shoulder; a long narrow skull to maximize their field of vision, etc. Consistently select for the best sprinter, and you will get these characteristics.

Early Classifications

Humans love to classify things, so of course they started classifying dogs early on. Aristotle wrote of three types of dogs, “Epirotic,” “Laconians,” and “Molossians.” He did not give any description of these dogs for us to know exactly what he meant, though in Thurston’s book she describes the Laconians as lithe hunting dogs, possibly bred from Egyptian exports, and Molossians as mastiff-like. There were also wolf-like dogs employed by shepherds to guard flocks and herds, which they did with a reputation of savagery. And there were common street dogs of which we know little.

Of Roman dogs, Thurston writes that there were “a plethora of new varieties”:

Giant “Mastiffs,” Spitzes, chubby, Beagle-like canines, curly-coated “Poodles,” pocket-sized lapdogs, and a large constituency of mild-mannered, midsized hounds with upright and drop ears, square muzzles, foreshortened faces, or coats of differing colors, lengths, and textures.”

The Lost History of the Caine Race pg. 49

Notice that Thurston puts “Mastiffs” and “Poodles” in quotation marks. Because, while acknowledging that “This pageant of Roman hound varieties exhibited appearances and behaviors often approximating those of modern breeds,” it is important to remember that these dogs were not the modern breeds we know today—not yet. As far as classifying their dogs, the Romans had three categories: Canis villateca—house dog (evidently including guard dogs and dogs that killed vermin), Canis pastoralis—the shepherd’s dog, and Venatici—sporting dogs. (Combe, pg. 22)

This classification indicates that there were sufficient pure or recognizable breeds or types at that period in each of these groups, although they are not individually listed.

Herding Dogs: Their Origins and Development in Britain pg. 22

In the middle ages, feudal elites greatly valued their hunting hounds. Thurston writes that these dogs were likely of mixed blood, bred together for performance rather than to preserve a distinct bloodline. They were grouped loosely according to size and purpose. For instance:

• Brachets – medium-sized dogs adept at chasing small game
• Levriers (In England called Greyhounds, but not our modern Greyhounds) – larger dogs capable of bringing down stags
• Alaunts – sturdy, mastiff-like hounds who could take down wild boar

(Thurston, pg. 69)

All the way until the first decades of the 19th century, dogs were categorized by function and broad physical type that went along with that function. So when we see words like “mastiff,” “bulldog” “greyhound,” “spaniel,” or “collie,” we have a very specific picture in our head, but back then these categories were much more broad. If it was a very large and robust dog that guarded property, it was a mastiff.

Actually, the way that “pitbull” is used by the majority of people today as quite a catchall term for a dog with a blocky head, short coat, and a muscular build—that is very similar to how these words were applied back then. Except that the function of the dog was very integral. Things were not as clearly defined as they are with modern breeds, and, most of the time, lineage was not much of a concern.

Early Breeders

Yes, people did intentionally breed dogs together to achieve specific outcomes—back to the Aristotle example, he suggested that Laconian bitches be bred to Molossians, which would result in offspring that “have both the grace of their mothers and the courage of their sires.” And dog breeding was one of the many arts perfected by the ancient Chinese. As early as 700 C.E., the Imperial court had completely isolated palace dogs from outside genetic influence and were actively breeding for more extreme aesthetic features, and there are hints of even earlier royal dog breeding programmes. (Thurston, pg. 114)

In Europe during the Renaissance, Thurston writes that noblemen were actively breeding to perfect their hounds as the ritualized hunt became more and more culturally important to the upper class. Particular families or estates would have their own unique breed/variety of hound, “just like a vintage wine.” (Thurston pg. 75)

The broad varieties of antiquity and the middle ages gave way to much more distinct and uniform progenitors of our modern breeds. In addition to early Mastiffs and Greyhounds:

But of course, the dogs of the elite were not the only dogs, although dogs of the lower classes were less well documented. Of the working class dogs, the ones that got the most respect seem to have been those used for herding, as their superb intelligence was so apparent. So while their origins are still murky, we have better documentation of their existence and what they were like. I will again direct you to Iris Combe’s excellent book.

So it simply isn’t true to say that selective breeding of dogs originated at the end of the 19th century. However, while people were classifying dogs and breeding for certain traits for centuries (at least), it was not until the Victorian era that a systematic emphasis placed on solidifying and fixing traits with the intent of creating a more uniform look amongst members of the same breed.

Enter the Victorians

This is when the modern concept of breed emerged. No longer a loose term applied to dogs of the same function, exhibiting similar physical traits only insofar as those related to said function, homogeneity was the new goal. Principles that were already being used by livestock breeders were now applied to dogs. The only way to fix desired traits (‘fix’ as in set, not repair—English, why are you like this?), especially quickly, is to breed closely related individuals together, narrowing the gene pool and thus the phenotypic possibilities. People are very uncomfy with this now, but it is not inherently a bad thing, and, contrary to popular belief, does not always result in health problems. It does increase the likelihood of doubling up on recessive, disease-causing mutations, especially when a high percentage of the dogs in that breed carry those mutations. But there are breeds that to this day have very few health problems, proving that purebred does not inherently mean disease-riddled. Pedigrees allow breeders to identify and track health problems that are popping up in their lines. Furthermore, modern health screenings give breeders more tools than ever to make smart breeding decisions and breed away from health problems. And, for the record, crossing two breeds together does not automatically result in a healthier dog. That’s not how “hybrid vigour” works.

It makes absolute sense to me that this impulse of refining and further categorising these broad canine varieties would rise out of the Victorian era. I think if I had to give the theme of the era, I would call it conquest, although a Victorian would likely be very confused by my using this term, so deeply had they had buried the blade of conquest in polite trappings of “improvement” and “civilisation.” For example, they told each other, and probably even themselves, that the purpose of colonisation was to spread their “civilising” influence and elevate these people to a more “noble” and “improved” state—it certainly wasn’t to plunder the resources of those countries, they were far too polite for that! It just so happened, though, that they were clearly the most qualified to make use of land and natural resources. After all, they had industry and progress on their side. They turned a blind eye to all the ugliness that they caused, and they used the guise of religiosity, charity, and progress to put a nice spin on their atrocities. But it wasn’t only in distant lands. At home, Victorians ventured into the slums, into tenements and factories, workhouses and mines, textile mills and asylums. The mileage of social reforms varied, with some of it coming from a genuinely good place and making some real strides, but even so, it’s hard not to catch whiffs of that elitist, patronising mindset toward the less privileged.

When they weren’t conquering other humans, they were conquering nature. The industrial revolution brought for many folks an increasing alienation from the natural world, causing Victorian society to view themselves as quite separate from it. Quite elevated above it. And nature could use some improvement, couldn’t it? So, as the animals that live and work in our closest proximity, as our companions in which we see so much of ourselves—to quote Patricia McConnell, as our “connection to life on earth, to all that binds us and cradles us, lest we begin to feel too alone,” it made perfect sense that this impulse of improvement would find an outlet in the dog. Thurston writes that during this time, it was thought that the less resemblance a dog bore to wild canids, the more noble its character.

And so this is when pedigrees and registries and lists of traits that defined each breed came to be. It saw the birth of kennel clubs and dog shows. And yes, purebred dogs did become a status symbol. The upwardly mobile middle classes saw the opportunity to own a purebred pet dog as one of many ways to assert that they, too, had good taste and all the trappings of gentility. Not ready to let the lower classes in, the aristocracy sought to keep their bloodlines out of the hands of middle class breeders, and barring all but equally elite kennels from breeding with their dogs. (Thurston pg. 105) Hmm…the more things seem to change, the more they stay the same.

In fact, Thurston relates how Pug dog breeders refused to participate in the first dog shows to feature classes for nonsporting breeds, feeling that “to pit such animals against those of the middle class not only demeaned and devalued the breed, but diminished the social standing of the elite breeders as well.” (pg. 105)

Nonetheless, it was impossible to keep the middle classes out. Dog breeding was an arena where if you couldn’t afford or weren’t allowed to obtain a dog from an illustrious kennel, in just a few generations if you knew what you were doing, you could build your own. Of course, there was never a golden age where the dog world was entirely immune to the classism, prejudice, favouritism, and snobbery of the real world. Thurston relates another incident in 1863 where dogs were led into the ring with the names of their owners prominently attached to their collars—the intent being obvious. And dogs from other countries were lumped together in a “Foreign Dog” class, instead of being shown as separate breeds, which Thurston identifies as clearly playing to prejudices against immigrants (pg. 109). Regardless, the skill of the middle class breeders eventually supplanted the stranglehold of the aristocracy, and these breeders made their mark in building, shaping, and establishing the breeds that we love today. Many of them became their own kind of royalty in the dog world, and certainly by the 20th century as rigid hierarchies of birth loosened in many Western countries, influential breeders became celebrated legends.

And so, during this era, dogs that had been loosely grouped together for centuries were split up into increasingly more precise categories. Minutiae like the length of an ear and the shape of an eye would be defined in breed standards which became more detailed as they were revised over time. Yes, sometimes form followed function. But other times, the decisions were arbitrary and due to aesthetic preference, like the decision that the French bulldog should have bat ears at the insistence of American fanciers, even though Europeans preferred the rose ear. Imagine a world where Frenchies didn’t have their distinctive bat ears! And to be clear, I’m not saying this arbitrary-ness is a bad thing. It’s just good to acknowledge that not everything in breed standards is an objective truth, and anything deviating from it is inherently wrong. Sometimes it was just someone’s preference.

There is so much more we could unpack in all of this, but that is a good overview I think.

So, we covered what it means to be purebred. We established that, while the purebred fancy as it exists today—along with a lot of the problems it now has today—emerged from the Victorian era, the selective breeding of dogs for specialised purposes and even for aesthetic traits long predated that time. While entirely new breeds did emerge out of the late 19th century, in many cases the Victorian breeders were simply standardising and refining landraces and loosely-defined varieties/”breeds” that had long been in existence.

Many times, when people say that dog breeds are just a Victorian invention, they are arguing that breed is irrelevant and tells you nothing about the dog, other than its appearance. And that brings us to our third question: Does breed matter?

Before we can tackle that, let’s talk about why the discussion matters.

The Idea that Breed is Irrelevant is Hurting Dogs

One of the biggest things I admire so much about Kim Brophey’s work, both in her book Meet Your Dog and in the interviews she has done on a multitude of podcasts, is that she acknowledges that the message that breed is irrelevant came from a very good place, comes from people who love dogs and want to help dogs, but actually ends up hurting dogs and people. In trying to combat things like Breed-Specific Legislation or the fact that ”pitbulls” might be passed over in shelters, the message was spread to the public that dogs are just dogs, and that any dog can be a good pet, that “it’s all in how you raise them.”

Here’s the thing: it could be true that any dog can be a good “pet,” but that depends on your definition of a pet.

At the same time as these messages are going out about a dog’s genetic makeup being irrelevant, our expectations for our dogs are changing, and becoming increasingly difficult for any dog to fill. The majority of pet dog lifestyles require them to be okay with being left in their crate, sometimes up to 12 hours every weekday. When the humans get home, the dog is greeted and made much over, but then the dog is supposed to go leave them alone while they cook dinner or watch tv. The dog needs to occupy themselves without doing anything the human considers naughty. When they finally get into the world outside their house and yard, they’re on a leash with limited opportunity to explore. They’re often forced to interact with strange humans and dogs while on the leash, and they’re supposed to love it. Pet dogs are supposed to be expert regulators of their emotions. They’re never allowed to have a bad day or reach the end of their emotional tether. They must accept anything a human or other dog does, no matter how inappropriate, without complaint. We love our dogs, so we want to take them everywhere. The farmer’s market, dog-friendly stores, outside eateries, the dog park, family picnics. And people are understandably very disappointed if their dog, which they were told they could raise to be whatever they wanted it to be, is not able to do these things.

One thing Kim Brophey has mentioned on more than one podcast (and probably also in her book—I just don’t remember for sure) that really resonated with me too is the way that her grandma used to warn her as a child, “if you go near that dog when he’s chewing his bone, he’ll bite you.” And that was understood to be acceptable—because that’s what most dogs do. I remember being similarly educated by my parents about how not to get bitten, especially by dogs I didn’t know. These behaviours didn’t make dogs “bad pets” just a generation ago, but in the common perception of a good pet now, things like resource guarding or not being okay with a strange child running up and hugging them are absolutely off the table.

So, if these highly specific, almost public-access-service-dog standards of behaviour are your definition of a good pet, then I’m just sorry but most dogs are not going to make the cut. Delia is the perfect dog for me, but she would be a terrible pet by those standards. If I don’t engage her mind every single day, she becomes high strung and barky and overreacts to stimuli. She’s a very happy girl and generally pretty willing to go along with whatever is happening, but she does have a strong sense of how things are supposed to be, and sometimes she has big feelings about stuff. So it’s my job as her human to stay tuned in with her body language and step in before she starts barking in frustration or takes it out on another dog. She’s always thinking and trying to figure things out, and the things she comes up with just amaze me. She gets bored very easily by repetition and is ready to move onto the next thing, but at the same time routines are extremely important to her.

Delia is exactly what I wanted—I didn’t want an easy couch potato. I wanted a dog with a big personality and an intelligent mind. And I work from home, so I’m able to keep her engaged and entertained enough that she can go take a nap when I need her to and be less prone to barking or getting into trouble. But for a lot of people and a lot of lifestyles, she would be way too much.

So Delia is the “perfect pet” for me. But the things that would make her difficult for a different person with a different lifestyle to live with are directly related to her breed—and even more specifically, to the personalities of her parents. Anyone getting her and expecting her to be like my Golden Retriever who, ever since he was young, has been happy whether he gets a walk or not, is happiest to be near us but doesn’t get anxious or get into trouble when left alone, sleeps most of the time, is happy to go outside by himself and just sniff around or lay on the patio contemplating the sky—anyone expecting Delia to be like that would have been very disappointed.

So this message is well-intentioned, but ends up being harmful. It’s the reason that my local rescues get GSDs and huskies and Aussies and border collies and malinois. These dogs aren’t bad dogs, but they sure as heck aren’t the dogs their owners were expecting.

The Argument that Breed is Just Marketing

So I think a problem I see a lot in these discussions is that people argue more than one thing at once. I don’t want to pick on this book too heavily, but The Dog Merchants by Kim Kavin provides a great example of this. In the section where she discusses this topic, I have trouble determining what her actual thesis is. But overall, it seems she is trying to argue that breed has nothing to do with health or temperament. Even though much of what she presents goes against that.

One of her main sources for this section is an interview she conducted with Janis Bradley, described by Kavin as “an early adopter into the first generation of canine science.” She also mentions that Bradley is the director for communications and publications for the National Canine Research Council in the United States. I had to look this up because I’m not familiar. It is a nonprofit think tank which looks to influence policy around dog welfare. A cursory glance at their site shows a big emphasis on dog bite research, so it seems as though much of their focus is preventing Breed Specific Legislation. Those are just some relevant things to note.

As for Bradley herself, her degree is in philosophy and English. She does have dog training certifications and has trained a lot of dog trainers—I’m sure she has a ton of knowledge. But she’s not perhaps the most obvious choice for a main source regarding the differences between dog breeds. I see nothing to indicate that she would have particular expertise in that area.

The problem, too, is that Kavin, being a journalist, simply interviewed Bradley and presented her statements without adding any sources or additional information to back up those statements. We also don’t have the full context of everything Bradley said in the interview. Sometimes, it’s not even a direct quote:

Bradley could not be any clearer in her opinion of modern-day breeds. The notion is pure folly, she says, that a dog’s breed indicates much of anything beyond the way it looks. As much as breeders and kennel clubs worldwide may advertise outright or imply quietly that certain breeds are likely to have predictable temperaments when brought home or to serve our families better as pets, the science thus far simply does not support that assertion.

The Dog Merchants pg. 52

The science doesn’t support that there is any predictability when it comes to temperament and behaviour? Well, we’ll have to ask science about that.

But again, it’s unclear whether the argument is that there is no predictability of temperament and behaviour as relates to dog breed, or whether the argument is that any dog, regardless of breed, can make a good pet. If it’s the latter, then see above—depends on the definition of a good pet.

“Nobody Has Ever Tried to Breed for Those Things”

Bradley states in Kavin’s book that, “Nobody has ever bred for general friendliness or unfriendliness or playfulness or any of those things. Nobody has ever tried to breed for those things.” To support this, she explains that these are polygenic traits, so you can’t breed for them anyway. It’s too complicated. (Kavin, pg. 52)

Okay. So here’s a true fact: today’s modern breeds were, with a few notable exceptions, not bred to be pets. So people such as Ray Coppinger, Trish MacMillan, Kim Brophey, the Functional Dog Breeding Collaborative, and others have argued/are arguing that we should be actively breeding dogs that can better fill this new expectation of the perfect family pet that so many hold. So that’s true, and we can assume that’s what Bradley actually meant, or that her quote was perhaps taken out of context.

Because “unfriendliness” is certainly a trait that has been bred into guard dogs for centuries, and many breed standards call for dogs to be aloof, wary of strangers, reserved, etc. Now, just because the breed standards call for it, will every Black Russian Terrier “not relish the intrusion by strangers into its personal space”? Will every Australian Cattle Dog be “naturally suspicious of strangers”? Does every German Shepherd display “a certain aloofness”? Of course not. But you can see why it baffles me to say that no one has ever tried to breed for these things.

And what about playfulness? Many working and sport dog breeders across breeds actively select for play drive. And as far as breeds go, the Irish Setter breed standard calls for “a rollicking personality.” As another example, the French Bulldog standard expressly mentions “active, alert, and playful.” The Parson Russell Terrier is said to be, “playful, exuberant and overwhelmingly
affectionate.”

Friendliness? Golden Retriever—”friendly.” Boxer—”he responds promptly
to friendly overtures honestly rendered.” Cavalier King Charles Spaniels—”friendly, non-aggressive.” Those are just three examples—a lot of breed standards, it turns out, mention friendliness.

And that’s just purebreds. Doodle breeders are trying to breed for friendly family pets, and I would say, if anything, a lot of doodles I have met are too friendly, so clearly they are succeeding.

So, in the nicest and most politest way possible: What are you talking about?! It’s hard enough to argue that no one has succeeded in breeding for those traits. But to say that no one has even tried?! Again, I’m sure we’re missing some context here.

And as far as polygenic traits being complicated to breed for, that’s true. We talked about that in regards to degenerative myelopathy. But complicated doesn’t mean breeders aren’t doing it all the time. I don’t know enough about this stuff to feel super confident talking about it, but it’s essentially the whole concept of prepotency. Prepotency is defined as “unusual ability of an individual or strain to transmit its characters to offspring because of homozygosity for numerous dominant genes.” (Merriam Webster) Numerous dominant genes are involved, and they get passed down as a package deal. Delia’s sire for example, comes from a very prepotent line, and bears a striking resemblance to his own sire. It’s very easy to identify his kids, because they all have a certain look about them. This “look” is polygenic, and yet it was bred in.

Is Health and Behaviour Inherited…Or Not?

And the funny thing is that Kavin goes on to talk about how traits come packaged with other traits. Quoting Dr. Jane Brackman, an expert on canine genetics and domestication:

“What geneticists have disovered in only the last decade is that in dogs (and probably other animals as well) many traits are prepackaged, not à la carte. For example, if you select for a broader head, you’ll get thicker legs as well.” In some cases, breeding for physical characteristics may mean affecting things like health and behavior too.

The Dog Merchants pg. 54

Okay, so here we have something that I agree with wholeheartedly, and which I’m going to talk about on the other side of this argument: many physical traits have behavioural traits attached to them. So much so that you can identify broadly what type of dog it is by some of these traits, which is super cool and I can’t wait to talk about. But it’s almost as if Kavin didn’t notice the word “behaviour” even though she wrote it. She goes on to talk about some of the genetic health issues which exist in breeds. And then, contradicting all of that entirely, Kavin winds up this section with this:

Given how long some stereotypes have had to bake into the brains of dog buyers everywhere, it’s going to be a long while before many will be able to acknowledge that they’re choosing breeds primarily because of physical attributes—not in any measurable way because of temperament or health.

The Dog Breeders pg. 56

I don’t disagree that there are definitely people who do that. Some people love corgis for their short legs and fluffy butts and don’t know they’re getting a high energy herding dog. But that doesn’t mean everyone chooses their dog breed for purely aesthetic reasons, and responsible breeders try very hard to make their puppy buyers understand what they’re getting, because they don’t want to get those puppies back (or have the buyer break contract and dump it in a shelter). Still, I’m kind of onboard with how I thought this statement was meant to be understood. But then she quotes Bradley again:

“Everybody has a right to have the kind of dog they want. That’s a perfectly reasonable expectation. The place where people get into trouble is when they attach behavioural expectations to that.”

The Dog Breeders pg. 56

Well, I argue that it’s the exact opposite: The place where people get into trouble is when they don’t attach behavioural expectations to that. When they think they can just choose the size and colour and coat type they want, and it’s all superficial and they can raise the dog to be whatever they want it to be. This narrative, however well-intentioned, is unfair to the people and it’s extremely unfair to the dogs.

But this post is getting extremely long, so we’ll wind it up and leave the science—including a new study I’m super excited about—for next time.

One Last Thing

One miscellaneous thing I wanted to talk about from this section of Kavin’s work:

Even with such rigorous selection, according to Bradley, the science shows that Greyhounds today are eager to chase only slightly more than the average among all dog breeds.

The Dog Merchants, pg. 52

Since her only source provided is that Bradley said it, I had to go looking for the study Bradley is referring to myself. Unfortunately, I couldn’t find it through Google Scholar, so if anyone knows the study she is referring to, please comment a link or send it to compembdium at gmail.com. Regarding Greyhounds and the behaviour of chasing, I did find this study concerned with helping retired greyhounds who demonstrate predatory behaviour which can make people hesitant to adopt them. I also found this article entitled “Genes Play a Role in Dog Behavior,” the summary of which is:

Border collies are highly trainable, greyhounds love to chase, and German shepherds make good guard dogs. While the environment plays a role, traits like these are highly heritable, according to a study of 101 dog breeds. The work identifies 131 genetic variants associated with breed differences in behavior.

Science Daily

So. You know. There’s that.

But, since I can’t find the source she’s referring to, all I can look at is the indirect quote Kavin provides: “Greyhounds are eager to chase only slightly more than average.” I’m not an expert, but slightly more than average is still, statistically speaking, more than average.

Just something I needed to talk about.

Next time, we’ll discuss the argument that genetics do influence behaviour, and that the highly specialised jobs that brought us our modern breeds do indeed have implications for how the dog will fit into their role as the 21st century pet. There’s some fascinating science here which I can’t wait to incompetently present.

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And that’s all I have for you today! I hope this was interesting and fairly coherent to follow. If you enjoyed this post, thank you so much! You might enjoy checking out the rest of my blog. And to make sure you are notified of future posts, you can put your email into the box at the bottom of the page. Or, find the Com(pemb)dium Facebook page, where I post links to every new post as well as cute pictures of Delia and other random content.

And have a lovely day!