<<with apologies to Forest Gump…>> Mutts are like a box of chocolates—you never know what you’re gonna get.
Over the
course of our almost 40 years together, my husband and I have spun the roulette
wheel of doggie DNA six times as we’ve welcomed “mutts” into our lives. Three
were labeled Shepard/Husky mixes, one was a lab mix, one was a shepherd/Carolina
dog mix, and one was straight up Heinz 57 (a Puerto Rican street dog with at
least 57 breeds in his lineage.) Success ratio: 1 out of 6.
Dog one was
the truest to his cage tag of shepherd/husky mix. I suspect there were other
breeds mixed in there, but those were his predominant size, color, and
personality traits. So far so good.
Dog two was
not even close to the shepherd/husky mix the cardboard box at a South Carolina
flea market promised. He topped out at a whopping 104 pounds. He had Doberman
markings, but we never did figure out what the “big dog” cross was. And, um,
let’s just same he didn’t have quite the IQ of our super smart shepherd/husky
mix. Not even close.
Dog three
picked my husband as she huddled in her cage at the shelter. Tag read
shepherd/husky. She turned out to be a Norwegian Elkhound. In all fairness, the
two breeds look very much alike, but the Elkhounds are smaller. I believe she
was a purebred, but what are the odds someone dumped a box of purebreds when
they could have sold for big money?
Dog four who
came from a foster dog program, looked like a mottled lab; short-haired (our
preference) and roly-poly—who could resist? She didn’t grow much, so the lab
lineage didn’t pan out. Her fur grew long and silky, and she had the
rounding-up instincts of a border collie. When wet, she had the body image of a
beagle. Oh, and she had the beagle howl. Surprise, surprise.
Dog five came
to us in an emergency rehome situation, a tawny, twelve-pound bundle of skin
and bones. Diagnosis: Carolina dog/shepherd mix, projected full size of 30 to
40 pounds. This dog has literally grown before our very eyes, weighing it at 99
pounds at his two-year checkup. He has the conformation and droopy jowls of a
Great Dane; the wide, cement-hard head of a bull terrier; and the
sit-under-the-porch-on-a-sunny-summer’s-day smarts of a Carolina dog. He loves
to snuggle on a lap. The problem is nobody in our household has a lap that big.
Dog six, the
Puerto Rican street dog, came with no guesses as to his lineage or false
promises of size or temper. He is what he is: a little brown dog with a great
big heart. He’s about to celebrate his third birthday birthday, and never did
get much taller (wider maybe…that dog is always hungry! I think that comes from
spending the first four months of his life not knowing where his next meal was
coming from.) He might have a little chihuahua and/or min-pin in him, but the
rest is a mystery.
You know
where this is going, right?
To
Doggie-DNA test, or not to Doggie-DNA test. That is the question we are
currently debating.
Costs range
from $50 to $200 per test. I can take a sample of my dog’s saliva and send it
in and see which breeds exactly are inside my fur babies. Many of my friends
have tested their dogs and shown the results, some surprising, but most not
telling them anything they didn’t already know.
While the
true breed of “mutt” is never going to be invited to the Westminster Kennel
Club dog show—I’m not sure any self-respecting Mutt would even want to—would knowing
their lineage have any effect on their lives? Or mine? Would it make me more
enthusiastic about vacuuming fur off the sofa cushions? Would the level of
spoiling them increase? Would our love for these snuggle bunnies change? The
answer to all of these questions is No.
The mutts in my house are always welcome, and in good company. After all, I’m a mutt myself.
_____________
About the Author:
Jayne Ormerod grew up in a small Ohio town and attended a small-town Ohio college. Upon earning her accountancy degree, she became a CIA (that’s not a sexy spy thing, but a Certified Internal Auditor). She married a naval officer, and off they sailed to see the world. After nineteen moves, they, along with their two rescue dogs Tiller and Scout, settled in a cottage by the Chesapeake Bay. Jayne writes cozy mysteries about small towns with beach settings. You can read more about Jayne and her many publications at www.JayneOrmerod.com.
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