The sun is setting over downtown Maple Ridge and the buildings are a hazy silhouette partially obscuring an amber skyline. Quinn, my smallish dog, is perched on the back of the sofa, gazing at the vista. He routinely takes in the scenery, but especially as day fades to night you’ll reliably find him here, peering off into the distance. He appears mindful. We humans often take photos of sunsets, apply a filter, add some hashtags, and then go back to whatever’s on T.V. Not Quinn. He appears fully invested in this time, seemingly embodying the #YOLO mentality we espouse but fail to manifest. We all get a finite number of sunsets in our lives, and he’s going to make the most of his.
Lately I’ve taken to sitting beside him in these quiet moments. I’m unsure if he appreciates my company or if my presence is an intrusion to his solitary contemplations — he only briefly glances at me as I settle into a pillowy nook. As darkness creeps toward the horizon, streetlights wink on, drawing his attention. Quinn can be high-strung, but at this moment he is serene. We both are. He makes me more thoughtful and more empathetic. My relationship with Quinn is a legacy — the modern embodiment of an ancient compact. It’s a primeval truce between disparate species that developed into a deep and lasting bond. It’s true that dogs would not be dogs without humans, but people would not be people without dogs. Like a river that carves out the landscape, altering its course over time, human beings have been intimately transformed through our canine connection.
We Canadians love our furry friends, but we often let them down. Unscrupulous breeding practices, fly-by-night adoption organizations, pet-restrictive housing, and soaring veterinary costs all feed into a system dubbed “the wild west” by Paws for Hope’s executive director, Kathy Powelson. “Shelters are full. Rescues are full. Fundraising has been really, really hard these past twelve months.” In the absence of adequate oversight, Powelson said animal welfare groups “really are left to fend for [themselves].”
Our relationship with dogs predates most of the milestones of our history. When Alexander the Great was conquering the Mediterranean, he did so with his loyal pooch, Peritas. Dogs were around 4,500 years ago to witness the construction of the Pyramids of Giza. They were at home in the first human cities. Before anything resembling civilization, there were dogs. Fido was our first experience with domestication. Long before we were riding horses, cooping chickens, grazing cattle, or herding sheep, we had dogs. They are a remnant of a prehistoric time when we migrated with the herds and the seasons. They’re a throwback. Older than domesticated rice, wheat, or barley — dogs are older than agriculture.
Nobody is certain just how ancient dogs are. Serious people disagree on just when, where, and how many times domestication occurred. Fossil evidence and recent DNA sequencing points to at least two distinct locations of domestication: Northern Eurasia, and East Asia, with an eventual interbreeding occuring down the line. The jury is still out. Trying to discern the history of Canis familiaris is like trying to figure out all the ingredients in a smoothie, in the precise order they were added, and in specific amounts. All modern dogs trace their ancestry back to wolves, but we can’t even agree on the process — whether they domesticated themselves by slowly acculturating themselves to us and our encampments; or if humans took a more active role, selectively capturing and breeding the tamest or least fearful individuals. The process could also combine a variety of means, and vary by location. It’s one of life’s great mysteries.
Alongside humans, dogs spread around the globe. During the last ice age, they crossed the Bering land bridge with their migratory companions and populated the Americas. Fossil records suggest dogs were present in the Americas as far back as 10,000 years ago. As they spread across the globe, they adapted. Their humans helped the process along, selecting the individuals with the best traits based on their specific needs and environments. Social by nature, wolves were born to be part of a community; a commonality that aided in adapting to early human life.
One of my dogs, Kave, is half Great Pyrenees (or Pyrenean mountain dog). At 135 pounds, he dwarfs most other pets. Great Pyrenees were historically bred for the protection of sheep, and shepherds in the French Pyrenees mountains still rely on these dogs to help protect their flocks. Their ability to operate as an effective guardian also relies on a measure of autonomy, which means these dogs can be aloof, stubborn, and overprotective. This presents itself at home with his idea of play, which is to take the toy away from everyone else so nobody makes it squeak, or to bark incessantly at me when I attempt to swat a mosquito. Violence of any kind is strictly prohibited in my house.
Selective breeding gave both humans and dogs an advantage, as over time, dogs’ inherent value as members of the collective increased. Over subsequent generations and as traits were either reinforced or suppressed, the loyal, hardworking companions we know today gradually emerged. For example, a border collie’s wit, agility, and ability to function as a team all aid in their ability as herding dogs and trace their origin to their wolf ancestry. The trick was getting them to treat their herd as a responsibility rather than prey, but the innate instinct to drive herds and pick out stragglers is innate. Not every dog needed to herd animals of course, which meant that the diversification of dogs exploded as human society developed and gained complexity. Some dogs were bred to be fierce protectors and were selected for their size and ferocity. Others, like the husky, were born to run. Dogs could protect the flock, alert the town, track game, catch rats, signal societal status, or just hang out by your feet.
Those instincts that became painstakingly hardwired come with significant advantages. For example, breed-specific characteristics can go a long way in helping a person select a dog that’s right for them. Belgian Malinois have very different lifestyle needs than a St. Bernard, and understanding that allows for humans to give their pups the best life possible. People with active lifestyles who desire a running partner would be disappointed with a dog like Kave because he’s a layabout. Similarly, he would be a terrible hunting partner, as he doesn’t fetch and is a natural peacekeeper. Mismatching dogs and people often results in dissatisfaction for all. Ideally, the standardization of breeds results in a harmonious pairing, as breed traits help to differentiate among dogs who are good with children, require different levels of exercise and stimulation, and varying levels of care. The problem is that in the quest to make breeds as reliable as German appliances, they’ve wandered into problematic territory.
The problems with pedigree
A 1980 Chevy Corvette is a beautiful car. The sleek lines; the fat tires prowling under menacingly swollen wheel arches; it’s an exquisite blend of style and brutishness. If you find one today that’s been carefully maintained and detailed, it’s quite a sight. The only problem is that it’s not a very good car. The 1980 Chevy Corvette looks great adorning a bedroom wall, or slowly rolling past you on a sunny day at the promenade, but it’s a different story when you get under the hood. According to Mike Knepper of Car and Driver, “It’s not put together very well; the quality of materials would embarrass any Japanese econobox; it squeaks, creaks, and moans.” Michael Derosa, a writer at Hotcars said it had “one of the worst engines of all time.”
Four decades after those handsomely haphazard Corvettes started rolling off the line, an adorable puppy named Trumpet was born in Illinois to high expectations. Trumpet is a bloodhound of prestigious pedigree. In 2014, his father, Nathan, won the hound group at the famed Westminster Dog Show. In 2022, Trumpet won the hound group as well, before going on to win best in show. No bloodhound has ever won the title before. Trumpet may well be the last.
Westminster’s dog show has seen many thousands of contestants in its 145-year history. In its time, the pomp and pageantry has garnered much attention as the canine aficionado’s premiere pooch parade. The Westminster Kennel Club judges have, over many generations, cultivated rigorous and exacting standards for all recognized breeds, from wire fox terriers, to Great Danes. Breeders and handlers gather from all around, keen to show off their prized puppers in order to secure breeder bragging rights. This isn’t your neighborhood dog show. Puppies sired by a champion show dog fetch a pretty penny (up to US$25,000 as of 2016) which makes professional dog breeding an elite business with exacting standards.
Strict guidelines, along with investments in time, money, grooming, and training, has led to an ancestral arms race as breeds become increasingly distinctive. Desirable traits are reinforced through successive generations, as has been the norm for centuries, but now the premium is put on appearance — often at the expense of health. Line breeding (the interbreeding of direct relatives in order to foster a desired trait), is a practice that limits the genetic diversity in a population. Genetic diversity is critical to population resiliency; something that has seen a marked decline over the last century.
Trumpet, Westminster’s recent champion, is of one such breed that has been particularly impacted by this ‘form-over-function’ mentality. The bloodhound is one of the breeds most prone to significant health issues, according to the Animal Health Clinic. They are predisposed to bloat, hip and elbow dysplasia, and degenerative myelopathy (a degenerative neurological condition). Those sweet, droopy eyes are the result of excess facial skin that leads to eye problems like entropion or ectropion (when the eyelid flips in or out). Those big floppy ears result in infections, and their rolly-poley skin folds can cause skin-fold dermatitis. But Trumpet is a champion, and like his father before him, he can now look forward to the sweet life as a stud. He’s poised to pass on his genes to the next generation of bloodhounds, replete with any genetic baggage he might be carrying. The desire for championship genetic material often leads to popular sire syndrome, in which breeders scramble to deliver the next generation of top-dog talent. Any hereditary cargo or complications spread quickly through the gene pool.
In the pursuit to make a best in show bloodhound — one deemed particularly special and handsome on the basis of how well his cartoonish features exemplify the breed — kennel clubs and breeders have come together to create a 1980 Chevy Corvette. They’ve engineered a living, breathing work-of art; a poster to hang on your wall — but the quest to create something subjectively beautiful has come at the expense of function. That may be fine in a car, but if Pixar represented ailing automobiles as sentient creatures, we’d likely regard them with pity. Somehow, we have a blind spot when it comes to the welfare of our best friends.
Wally Conron, the breeder of the first labradoodle, has serious regrets about his decision, telling ABC News, “I opened a Pandora’s box and released a Frankenstein’s monster.” Conron realized early on that unscrupulous people were capitalizing on the trend and breeding dogs to make a quick buck without due care. The labradoodle was initially bred to be the first hypoallergenic guide dog by combining a lab’s personality with a poodle’s coat, but the resulting population has an inconsistent temperament. “I find that the biggest majority are either crazy or have a hereditary problem,” says Conron. “I do see some damn nice labradoodles but they’re few and far between.”
Of course, if you’re spending the equivalent of a new Honda Civic on a dog, you can probably afford to give them the very best training, food, and medical attention… but many can’t and don’t. Exploitative breeders who are quick to capitalize on fads go to great lengths to cash-in on breeding trends, and some employ all manner of heinous behaviours to make a buck regardless of the ethics or long term health outcomes. Systemic health challenges only increase the already high cost of veterinary services, resulting in pets being surrendered to rescue organizations just to receive care. “I really wish that more of our colleagues in the sector would recognize that and shift away from requiring families to surrender their pet to that rescue,” said Powelson. “In order for the rescue to give them the veterinary care that they need… that’s kind of standard practice.”
There’s no quick-fix to this problem. We want some reasonable assurances that the puppy we adopt will become the dog we expect, but it’s a double-edged sword. Line breeding helps to ensure favorable attributes are fortified, but it comes at the expense of the breed’s overall health. For example, many bulldog breeders rely on artificial insemination because females often lack the ability to support a male while mating. Boston terrier mamas reportedly require C-sections 92.3 per cent of the time, and around 60 per cent of golden retrievers get cancer.
Kennel clubs are rightly concerned, as many of our favorite breeds have been engineered to such a degree that they would go extinct without human intervention, but it’s hard to see these organizations as the solution. First, there will always be a market for dogs of ‘questionable’ parentage; and second, kennel clubs codified the very characteristics that resulted in many of these systemic issues. The Kennel Club, a UK-based dog advocacy organization has instituted Breed Watch, and placed nine dogs on its list of “Category 3” types. Breeds that fall under Category 3 are “considered to be more susceptible to developing specific health conditions associated with exaggerated conformation.” That means that the very features we prized and highlighted are the direct cause of their illnesses. Dogs on this list include pugs, German shepherds, and bloodhounds. Sorry, Trumpet.
We like dogs to look, act, and perform in specific ways, and there is a great deal of value in this for people and dogs alike. However, in our quest to create the perfect visual specimens, loyal companions, and status symbols, we’ve back-burnered our ethics. We choose appearance over health, playing roulette with their genes. We sentence our best and oldest friends to a life of discomfort, illness, and early demise, often totally unconsciously. Sitting with my dog while we observe the oncoming night, it seems inconceivable that they would do the same in our position.
The minds and jobs of the modern dog
Of course, I can’t know what Quinn is really seeing from his perch as his little body slowly deforms my couch-back; whether he’s reflecting on the walk he took earlier, or simply enjoys watching the seagulls. We communicate as best we can, but I can’t know what’s in his mind. I like to think this time is meaningful to him, but I’m just projecting. There’s a communication gap we just can’t bridge. I know he is intimately aware of me, constantly attuned to my habits, tones, and behaviours. At night when the Xbox bleeps, a sound that always signals bedtime, he instinctively gets up from wherever he is and saunters into the bedroom. If I briefly stop petting his tummy, his head snaps around with a Bea Arthur glare. Should I fail to rectify the situation in a time he deems appropriate, he proceeds to his vocal objections. Training in my house is a two-way street.
Despite the language barrier, I can’t help but feel that our communication with dogs, although limited, is also far more honest. In our long drawn out process of social evolution, we Homo sapiens have developed numerous tools for subverting the truth in our daily interactions. It’s harder to lie to dogs. Sure, we can trick them by hiding a ball behind our backs or saying “park” when we really mean “vet,” but our canine companions see us very clearly.
Barnard College professor and author of Inside of a Dog: What Dogs See, Smell, and Know, Alexandra Horowitz reveals that not only are dogs “very good at looking at our faces; they are also skilled at reading those faces to get information about the mind behind them.” Dogs consider what we see, and therefore what we know. They are more likely to sneak treats and misbehave in the dark or when we’re not around and they realize they aren’t being observed. Additionally, when we catch them, say, chewing our shoes or digging out our herb garden, their guilty reaction isn’t due to their behaviour, but our reaction to their behaviour. Horowitz conveys that “ducking their head, looking away, [or] frantically wagging their tail low between their legs… is not an indication of their guilt at disobedience, but of their sensitivity to whether we think they are guilty.”
A dog’s ability to read us has helped breeds to become more specialized. For example, working dogs enjoy performing tasks and the rewards that come with a job well done, and while ancient duties as guardians and herders persist, the modern world has provided new roles for dogs to take up.
Perhaps the most important job dogs perform today is that of guides. The Canadian National Institute for the Blind (CNIB) estimates that half-a-million Canadians are blind or partially sighted. Those who have sight loss must traverse a world that most people cannot comprehend, and while technological developments promote accessibility and create a more inclusive society, guide dogs provide emotional and physical support, and mitigate many of the difficulties in navigating their homes, communities, and the wider world.
Guide dogs, however, require a lot of training, and even then, many prospects do not graduate successfully from the program. Guide dogs need to be intelligently disobedient, able to ignore a command that would court danger, like stepping out into traffic. The process is laborious, and as such, there is a shortage of guide dogs in Canada. Many guide dogs are bred and trained in the U.S., and the CNIB would like to see a real national investment on this side of the border. Due to the pandemic, many Canadian applications were put on hold. Diane Bergeron, president of the CNIB told the National Post, “we believe every Canadian who needs a guide dog should have that opportunity — at no cost.”
Service dogs come in many shapes and sizes. Some are trained to detect allergens, while others can sense an oncoming seizure or recognize a chemical change in our blood sugar levels. Service dogs also provide a tangible, yet difficult to quantify emotional support just by being themselves. Many therapy dogs spend time in care homes and hospitals to give comfort to residents and patients, and you can regularly find therapy dogs in the UFV library, thanks to St. John Ambulance.
It’s hard to imagine that a dog loves like a human does, with our conditional devotions and fleeting infatuations. The love of a dog is, by contrast, unadulterated. Quinn values my time and attention with an urgency I regularly lack. He’s bossy, petulant, and finicky, but also smart, snuggly, and infinitely affectionate. He’ll (hopefully) spend his entire life with me, while I’ll only spend a portion of mine with him, and yet he loves me like it’s the reverse — like every moment should be cherished, and every sunset might be the last.
The neighborhood now awash in artificial light, my apricot-coloured little buddy pads off to the bedroom to see what his brother is up to. The family dynamic in my house is all the more endearing for its strangeness. Thomas Hobbes famously stated that the life of man was “solitary, poor, nasty, brutish, and short.” Our relationship with dogs tells me that there’s truth in that statement, but somewhere in our history, a wolf and a human agreed that the best way to get through it was together — and we never looked back.
Long ago, when DeLoreans roamed the earth, Brad was born. In accordance with the times, he was raised in the wild every afternoon and weekend until dusk, never becoming so feral that he neglected to rewind his VHS rentals. His historical focus has assured him that civilization peaked with The Simpsons in the mid 90s. When not disappointing his parents, Brad spends his time with his dogs, regretting he didn’t learn typing in high school.
