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“White power!”

When I was a child, I was a connoisseur of all breed dog books. (I am sure that shocks you all).

I often had a hard time pronouncing names. For example, I called the papillon “the pap-pillion.”

And I called the white Russian herding spitz a “Samoid.”

After all, doesn’t that sound like a more reasonable pronunciation of a word that is spell “Samoyed.”

But Samoid sounds like some kind of disease you might catch, so I always thought it was a bit strange.

I knew from the breed books that this name meant “self-eater” in Russian, but virtually every book mentioned that the name was wrong. The Samoyed was a nice dog.

However, one day, I learned that the actual pronunciation is “Samma-yed.”

I thought nothing of the name after that.

It was only when I started discussing laikas breeds with Dave that I asked a very simple question:

Where did the Samoyed come from? I thought there was some connection between the word Samoyed and the Sami people of Fenno-Scandinavia and Russia’s Kola Peninsula.

Through a little Google search, I discovered that the both Nenets and Sami spoke a Uralic language.

And that was enough for me.

However, I wondered about the Russian word “Samoyed” that meant “self-eater.”

It was only when I did a little more research that something disturbing hit me.

Samoyed is word that does apply to the Nenets.

However, it is a word that applies to the Nenets in much the same way the n-word applies to African-Americans.

The Canadian broadcaster and etymologist Bill Casselman writes about this word:

Samoyed was the Russian word for these peoples [the Nenets and their close relatives, the Selkups, the Enets, and the Nganasans] and their group of languages. It had entered Russian as a word by the 16th century, and is certainly never used by these peoples themselves or by educated Russians today, since Samoyed means self-eater or cannibal in Russian. Many English speakers forget or never knew that Slavic languages like Russian descend from the same ancient source as English, namely a language called Indo-European or sometimes Proto-Indo-European. In the word Samoyed, the Russian root samo ‘self’ is directly related to the English word same and the Russian verbal root yed- ‘eat’ is a cognate of the English verb to eat.

So all this time, we’ve been calling this dog by the racial epithet bestowed upon them by their colonizers.

The dog we call the Samoyed is, of course, entirely a Western invention.

The Nenets herding laika comes in many different colors, not just white and “biscuit” or cream-colors.

nenets herding laika

If one would like to see photos of Nenets herding laikas in their natural habitat, check out these photos by Bryan and Cherry Alexander. These photos were all taken in the Yamalo-Nenets Autonomous Okrug in Siberia, the same place where the dogs that founded the Western Samoyed breed originated.

The Russian-American dog expert and zoologist Vladimir Beregovoy traveled to the Yamal Peninsula in 1961, where he encountered the Nenets and their dogs. He writes about how they were used:

In the Arctic Ural area, Yamal Peninsula and further to the east longhair aboriginal dogs similar to the Samoyed are used for herding reindeer. When herding, these dogs help to keep deer herd together on the move to better pastures. In winter, dogs help to trail and find lost reindeer. When dogs find stray reindeer far away from people they stay with them for a long time, sometimes even for few days without food guarding the deer. Dogs are barking a lot that helps their master to find where they are. Endurance, courage and determination of these dogs are amazing.

Another common form of using of aboriginal dogs of Nenets people is hunting. When hunting, these dogs act like bark pointers helping to find and tree grouse, squirrel and other small game. Despite the long coat, some of these dogs are trained and work well as duck retrievers. They do not hesitate to swim or wade in water at a subfreezing temperature. I purchased a two year old male who made an excellent hunting dog.

So these dogs are not entirely different from the other laikas of the region. They were used for a wide variety of tasks– almost all of which were life and death for their owners. (Beregovoy includes photos of a white laika named Noho. Noho’s name meant “Hunter” in Nenets, which tells you he wasn’t just rounding up the deer for his people.)

The history of the Western Samoyed breed begins with a British timber magnate named Ernest Kilburn Scott.

Scott imported the first dogs from Russia and exhibiting them at dog shows, and it was he who made the decision that the breed should be white, cream-colored, or “biscuit.” It was his wife, Clara, who essentially created the breed as we know it the West.

The founding population of these dogs was not particularly large, and this might go a long way to explaining why this breed has several issues with autoimmune disorders and a peculiar renal disorder called Samoyed Hereditary Glomerulopathy. The breed had issues with genetic diversity for most of its time as a fancy breed, but now through more science-based breeding practices, the inbreeding coefficients have been reduced.

However, it doesn’t change the fact that these dogs were founded by a finite number of founders, and the only genes in these dogs are those of their founders.

When I suggested to a Samoyed breeder on Facebook that she consider breeding her dogs to Nenets herding laikas, she was apoplectic.

She claimed that I was telling her to cross two different breeds!

Which is cardinal sin in the blood purity cult that is the modern dog fancy.

Never mind that these dogs and the Nenets breed are exactly the same breed. They are about as different as European golden retrievers that have been bred for the bench are from those that have been bred for hunting.

But of course, the Nenets dogs come in more colors besides white and cream, and therefore, they aren’t the same dog.

Never mind that the Nenets were breeding these dogs for centuries before the so-called dog fancy cult got its mitts on them.  The Nenets were breeding their dogs to do things and live in much harsher conditions than you can find in the United States or Western Europe.

With aboriginal dogs, there is always the assumption that the European-based dog fancy was always superior to their “barbaric” owners in their motherlands.

Of course, in the West, most Samoyeds don’t do anything resembling what their ancestors did or what their cousins still do for the Nenets.

One could count on one hand the number of fanciers at dog shows all the dog shows in history who have ever relied upon dogs for survival.

So with this breed, we have everything that is wrong when Western cultural imperialism runs headlong into the world of dogs.

Here have a dog breed that is given a name that is a racial epithet for their original breeders and that has been selectively bred out of a much more diverse landrace based upon one European couple’s ideal of beauty is.

And as if to add poetry to all this racialism, the preferred color of this dog is white.

The Western Samoyed is really a white power dog!

I think the first thing that has to be changed about this dog is its name. The alternative name for this breed is “bjelkier.”

I’d prefer to call it the Nenets laika.

But I know now that I will NEVER use the word “Samoyed” for this breed.

In recent years, the oldsquaw duck has disappeared from bird books.

You cannot find it.

The current name is “long-tailed duck,” and the reason why the name was changed is because the word “Squaw” is offensive to Native Americans.

Now, I know that political correctness has run amok among our discourse as a society, but if you’re part of a club that is being attacked for racialism– as the Western dog fancy clearly is– you’d think you’d try to clean up names like Samoyed.

But because being a reactionary turkey brain is a very common condition among Western dog fanciers, I bet that many don’t care. I bet some of them even like that they call this dog by a racial pejorative.

That might be the reaction, but it’s not good PR.

I happen to like this breed very much, but I think as it exists in the West is a caricature of what it actually is in its homeland.

I would certainly hate if other laika breeds went this road, and this story should be a cautionary tale to anyone wanting to bring aboriginal breeds into the West.

The Western fancy isn’t designed for dogs like these.

It wants to sequester gene pools and standardize everything.

An aboriginal dog cannot exist under such a regime. Not a single one of these aboriginal dogs was founded in the way that the Western fancy founds breeds, and not a single dog is maintained the way aboriginal strains are.

So let’s hope that the West Siberian laika and the Telomian stay way from this bunch.

The Samoyed as it exists now has a sustainable gene pool now, but the breed as it exists now is a fiction.

A fiction.

A fiction that is easily debunked once one reads something about the Nenets and their amazing dogs.

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Another common breed, which likely has a even higher cancer rate, is the boxer, and I think they ought to include a study on that breed as well.

According the Swedish pet insurance studies, the boxer has four times the tumor rate of the golden retriever.

 

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This dog is missing something. I can’t figure out what it is.

See related posts:

 

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I received my copy of Ted Kerasote’s Pukka’s Promise: The Quest for Longer-Lived Dogs a few weeks ago.

It’s taken me quite some time to read it, largely because every two or three pages I have to stop and think– or just marvel at the prose.

Ted Kerasote knows how to write about retriever dogs. I know of no other author who can capture the essence of Labrador and golden retrievers in quite the same way he can.  The power of Merle’s Door, his previous book about his beloved Labrador cross, largely came from this skill at capturing the essence of these animals. They are very rugged, very natural looking animals. They behave and move as if they have not one ounce of artifice about them, but they are also among the friendliest and most tractable dogs mankind has produced. Capturing these dogs in prose is quite task, one at which I fail on a regular basis.

The book is centered around the arrival of Pukka, a yellow Labrador from a breeder in Minnesota, and his maturation into a strong flusher and retriever of ruffed grouse, pheasants, and chukars (Pakistani red-legged partridges, very closely related to French partridges).

But the book’s central question is one of the most complex issues ever examined in a dog book.

I don’t know of anyone else has ever tried to answer this question.

And it’s a question we always ask:

Why is it that dogs don’t live very long?

Kerasote takes on this question from every possible angle.

But at nearly every chapter he winds up hitting a barrier.

It turns out that there aren’t any good studies with large n’s that are examining whether dogs live longer on raw or commercially prepared diets or whether spaying and neutering are actually that beneficial to the dog. There is also a very good chapter on the No Kill Movement, which I’m sure regular readers of this blog will enjoy.

This book asks so many questions and examines so many different aspects of dog health that a single blog post really can’t do it justice.

In addition to the central question, there are very good pieces on the morality of using e-collars or whether one should adopt a dog or get it from a breeder.

But there is one angle of the question of canine longevity that Kerasote examines for which science has provided a definite answer:

We’re breeding dogs very stupidly.

We’ve destroyed their gene pools by allowing closed registries and popular sire cults to dominate how we evaluate breeding stock.

We’ve allowed caprices of fashion to dictate which dogs get bred, for one thing we’ve found out is that dog genetic material is very easily manipulated to produce bizarre shapes. It’s probably one reason why the dog family has been so successful over the past 40 million years.

But in the hands of the dog sculptors, we’ve begun to push them to their limit.

Kerasote captures all of this in the book in devastating detail.

The best dog literature makes you fall in love with the canine characters.

And Kerasote does this very well.

But in his perusal of the different reasons why dogs die young, you will be made to stop and think for a bit.

I had not considered that phthalates were so common in dog toys.  I thought they had been regulated in the same way that children’s toys had been.

They are not.

And it’s quite a discomforting reality to know that we’re exposing dogs to levels of carcinogens that we would never allow our children to experience. And the only way to solve that issue is through regulation.

Yeah. He goes there.

Dogs didn’t evolve to become Methuselahs.

Kerasote makes this very clear.

Dogs evolved from wolves, which are meant to have very short lives and rapid reproductive rates.

Their basic biology is to live short lives and have lots of babies.

It does not matter that both dogs are wolves are higher mammals, which have complex social lives and corresponding higher intelligence.

They evolved living hard and fast. Genes only get passed onto those individuals who mature rapidly and have lots of offspring.

Animals that have that reproductive strategy tend to have shorter lifespans.

And although Kerasote entertains the idea of us selectively breeding dogs to live to be 50 or 80 years old, such an undertaking would take anywhere from 400 to one thousand years of dedicated selection.

And a lot of that selection would have to override the other things we breed for.

In the end, there are many ways to have longer-lived dogs.

But the idea that is most clearly understood now is to have better breeding practices.

We may not have dogs that live into their 80′s, but we might be able to breed golden retrievers in such a way that lifespans of 17 or 18 are more common in the breed.

I think that’s a very reasonable place to start.

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Suzanne Phillips has been a long-time reader of this blog. Earlier this week, she offered to do a guest post on the topic of why dogs develop food allergies. Much of what you read online about this topic is utter nonsense and she decided that this would be a good venue for setting the record straight. Her analysis is entirely based upon what the scientific research says about why dogs develop allergies to certain foods. Suzanne blogs at Hoof & Paw, and she and her husband run a small animal rescue organization in Eastern Oregon called Fuzzball Rescue.

So without any further adieu, here is her post:

Photo by Suzanne Phillips. Source for image.

Photo by Suzanne Phillips. Source for image.

First, my background. I have a BS in biology with a minor in Chemistry from Oregon State University. Since becoming a veterinary technician three years ago, I’ve had dozens of hours of training and continuing education on dog and cat nutrition.

Let me put it in bold and all caps so as to head off any accusatory comments: THIS DOES NOT MAKE ME AN EXPERT. However, it’s a hell of a lot more of a solid background on this subject than most people have.

Between my science background, boots-on-the-ground experience in a vet clinic, and personal research on Pubmed and VIN, I feel confident in saying that most people who open their mouths on this subject (literally IRL, and figuratively online) have at least some misconceptions about food allergies. Some people have a lot of misconceptions. Hopefully, this will clear some of those up.

Let’s start with an explanation of food allergies. When we say a dog is allergic to a food, what that actually means is that they are allergic to one or more proteins contained in that food. A dog is not allergic to “corn”, they are allergic to one or more proteins contained in the corn. This is a huge misconception when it comes to food allergies. It’s not helped by the fact that researchers never study individual proteins, only ingredients, so as short hand they always refer to allergens by their source. Hence, a dog is said to have an allergy to “chicken”, even though it’s only a tiny fraction of the muscle meat that’s actually causing a problem.

Let me repeat that, because some people have a hard time overcoming this: allergies are not caused by carbohydrates, starch, or fats. The vast majority of food allergens are large, water-soluble glycoproteins measuring between 10,000 and 70,000 Daltons.

Protein, protein, protein.

As food is broken down in the stomach and moves to the small intestines, what’s suppose to happen is that the proteins are broken into little pieces (hopefully individual amino acids) that are small when they’re absorbed through intestinal cell walls. Instead, for whatever reason, large segments of the offending protein get through the mucosal barrier and ends up touching too much surface area of the cell walls. The body reads this as a threat, and responds accordingly. This leads to a cascade of reactions that eventually leads, strangely enough, to itchy skin, especially the skin of the face, paws, and ears, but it can effect the entire body. It can also cause GI upset such as diarrhea or vomiting, but most of the time food allergy is suspected because of itchy skin.

This is a huge problem when it comes to diagnosis (whether by a vet or by the pet owner at home) because it’s suck a freaking general symptom. Itchy skin happens for all kinds of reasons. Far too often, the dog owner sees an itchy dog and immediately assumes it’s the food. The same symptoms could be caused by a host of things that need to be ruled out first: contact and inhalant allergies (dogs don’t sneeze when they’re allergic to pollen like we do), flea bite allergy, immune disorders, mites, lice, fungal, bacterial, and yeast infections, drug reactions, and more.

People make snap diagnosis all the time. Hell, we had a client once whose dog had a classic hypothyroid hair loss pattern and insisted it was the food and refused to let us do a blood test to rule out thyroid dysfunction. They must have tried over a dozen different kibble diets trying to cure the “allergy”. Every few months they’d bring the dog in and swear the hair loss was getting better. To us, it looked the same.

Let me focus on flea bite allergy for a moment. It is a common cause for itchy skin reactions in dogs, and far too often it is dismissed by pet owners. Please, don’t dismiss it. The symptoms are similar to food allergy, the itchiness can affect the entire body even after one flea bite, and the symptoms can last for weeks. Too often, dog owner assume that it couldn’t possibly be flea allergy because they haven’t seen any fleas on their dog, or it’s the dead of winter, or because they treat their home periodically with insecticides. Fleas can live indoors just fine during the winter; they can hide in refuges indoors where insecticides haven’t penetrated, like under furniture and between couch cushions; and they can hop on a dog, have a nice blood meal, and then hop off without ever being seen.

Bottom line: rule out flea allergy in every itchy dog, every time they have an episode of itching.

What makes diagnosis of food allergy even more difficult is that a single exposure to the offending protein can cause symptoms for weeks. Possibly months. I’ve had clients tell me with confidence that they cured their dog’s allergy by switching foods. “Fido stopped itching within a week!” they say happily, “that’s how we knew Fido was allergic to Brand X Kibble.”

Sigh.

Another problem is that it’s not always clear why a dog develops a food allergy. It can happen at any age, to any ingredient, even one that’s been fed to the dog for years.

Another problem is that dogs are often allergic to more than one protein, and there are some known cross-reactivities, also. A dog who is allergic to beef muscle meat is more likely to also be allergic to beef milk. There is also potential cross-reactivities between beef, sheep/goat, and venison meats.

Yet another problem is that we don’t really know how prevalent food allergy is in dogs. One report indicates food allergy accounts for 5% of all skin diseases. Some researchers say that it’s very rare, others that it’s the second or third most common hypersensitivity reaction. Considering the difficulties in a confident diagnosis, I’m not surprised at the discord.

The only way to diagnose a food allergy with confidence is (AFTER ruling out other reasons listed above) to go on a 12 week food trial of either a specialized hydrolyzed protein diet (where the proteins are “predigested” to small sizes that won’t cause a reaction and are processed on equipment that is clean of any other food residue: examples include Hill’s Z/D Ultra or Purina HA), or a strict and well-documented novel protein diet (a diet with a single protein the dog hasn’t eaten before, and a single source of carbs that contains little or no protein, such as cornstarch or white potato). More info here.

Both ways are a pain in the ass, (no other foods allowed: no treats, no flavored toothpaste or chew toys, no flavored medications) and take forever. But, if the dog’s itching stops or is reduced within 12 weeks of the strict diet, then you can safely suspect a food allergy. Then you can, one at a time, add single ingredients back into the diet until one (or more) of them causes a reaction. If you’re lucky, it’s only one or two ingredients that can be easily avoided in the future.

According the best research out there, the most common food to cause allergies in dogs is (probably) beef. This doesn’t make beef “highly allergenic”, it means that, of the population of (studied) dogs with food allergies, it is the most common ingredient that they reacted to them. However, there are millions of unique proteins in the ingredients in dog foods, and only a few ingredients have been studied thus far.

Food allergies are an immune disorder of individual dogs. Just because some dogs are allergic to beef, doesn’t mean beef is inherently “bad”. The food itself doesn’t cause dogs to be allergic.

The flaw is in the dog’s body, not in the food.

Lastly, I want to talk about Public Enemy Number One for a moment, simply because I’m sick to death of clients and dog aficionados talking crap about it: CORN.

Corn does not “cause” food allergies. It is not even one of the most common (known) food allergens. Corn is not “filler” in kibbles; it has all kinds of nutritional value for dogs: B vitamins, fatty acids, protein (corn gluten meal is 60% protein), and, of course, carbohydrates. Which dogs can digest just fine. Sorry if you don’t like that fact. Forget the recent study about amylase production in dogs and wolves; and stop speculating about specific paths of evolution and just consider the simple reality of kibble digestibility studies. Every major pet food company has done at least some kind of digestibility study on at least some of their foods. In fact, all the ones that market to vet clinics (like Purina, Hills, for example) make a big deal out of this fact. Kibble is highly digestible for the majority of dogs. The end.

In conclusion.

Things you should stop saying:

“It’s unnatural for dogs to eat carbs and it makes their skin itchy and flakey.”

Things you can feel free to say:

“I feed my dog XYZ and they seem to do well on it, so I think I’ll continue.”

If you only read one article about food allergies, read this one:

Verlinden, et al. 2006. Food Allergy in Dogs and Cats: A review. Clinical Reviews in Food Science and Nutrition, 46:259-27

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Nothing explains this problem better than this clip from PDE:

Source.

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Just read this language:

Link from Nara U.

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There aren’t a lot of genetic differences between a golden retriever and a yellow Labrador.

Something funny happens to the gene pools of domestic dogs. Breeders of pedigree Pekineses [sic] and Dalmatians go to elaborate lengths to stop the genes crossing from one gene pool to another. Stud books are kept, going back many generations, and miscegenation is the worst thing that can happen in the book of a pedigree breeder.  It is as though each breed of dog were incarcerated on its own little Ascension Island, kept apart from every other breed.  But the barrier to interbreeding is not blue water but human rules.  Geographically the breeds all overlap, but they might as well be on separate islands because of the way their owners police their mating opportunities.  Of course, from time to time the rules are broken. Like a rat stowing away on a ship to Ascension Island, a whippet bitch, say, escapes the leash and mates with a spaniel.  But the mongrel puppies that result, however loved they may be as individuals, are cast off the island labelled Pedigree Whippet.  Other pure-bred whippets ensure that the gene pool of the virtual island labelled Whippet continues uncontaminated.  There are hundreds of man-made ‘islands’, one for each breed of pedigree dog. Pedigree whippets or Pomeranians are to be found in many different places around the world, and cars, ships, and planes are used to ferry the genes from one geographical place to another. The virtual genetic island that is the Pekinese [sic] gene pool overlaps geographically, but not genetically (except when a bitch breaks over), with the virtual genetic island that is boxer gene pool and the virtual island that is the St. Bernard gene pool (pg. 33-34)

–Richard Dawkins The Greatest Show on Earth: The Evidence for Evolution (2010)

This passage from Richard Dawkins’s work is really the best explanation of the problems facing purebred dogs today.

No. Dawkins is not necessarily opposed to man creating these “islands.”  He does not make this criticism.

Instead, he uses it as way to show how geographic isolation can create new species. The lack gene flow between related population can create entirely genetically distinct populations that can become unique species over time.

With dogs, the “islands” are  utterly contrived. With the possible exception of giant breeds mating with the smallest toys, dogs are all capable of interbreeding. Dogs can also interbreed with wolves– their wild ancestor– golden jackals, coyotes, and Ethiopian wolves. There are behavioral barriers that normally keep dogs from swamping these other species with their genes.

But there are no behavioral barriers that stop dogs from very different breeds from mating with each other.

Humans have decided that the breeds will remain islands.

The problem is those islands didn’t have a very large founding population.

And what’s more, the mating systems within those islands are not random.

They aren’t really based upon Darwinian selection pressures either. They are bred solely upon human caprice and fashion.

Even working-bred dogs that are used for trials are based upon human selection.

And in most breeds, the real problem is that very few male dogs wind up siring too many puppies per generation. He may not be the healthiest dog in the population. His dominance has nothing to do with his fitness but rather how well he fits what humans perceive as the ideal in either trials or shows.

This is a recipe for genetic depauperation.

But the truth of the matter is that these islands are very new to dogs.

It has been only in the past century or so that a huge percentage of dogs in Western countries have been placed  in genetic islands.

Historically, dogs were bred for purpose. No one cared what they looked like. It was only that they were able to do the task at hand.

In many societies, dogs freely roamed, mating with bitches as they encountered them. The pups born from these populations would then be selected for whether they fit the task or not.

Breeds that existed were developed from very diverse populations, and selected for whether they fit that task.

This is very similar to the way natural selection works to create new species. Sexual reproduction produces variety,  and some of the variety produced has advantages in survival.  Ancestral swift foxes living in the arctic would occasionally produce kits that had lighter-colred winter fur. Lighter-colored winter fur is an advantage in places where the snow is on the ground for much of the year, and over time, these swift foxes became a specialized form that was well-adapted to living in the arctic. We call them arctic foxes.

In the same way, people would select for water dogs that were faster swimmers, and they discovered that dogs that had a bit more webbing between the toes were actually better swimmers. Over time, we developed dogs with very webbed feet and fast swimming abilities.  Thousands of years ago, people selected dogs that were fast sprinters, selecting heavily from dogs with the double-suspension rotary gallop. They created a canine cheetah, just from the variation that dogs were producing in their litters.

But in all of these populations, there was some variation.

It was only with the rise of the institution known as “the dog fancy” in the middle part of the nineteenth century that keeping dogs pure became virtue unto itself. It is certainly true that people kept inbred strains of dog before this time, and there are indeed accounts of people trying to avoid crossing different types of dog hundreds of years before this time.

But the fancy came about mainly because two things happened: technological advances meant that industrialized countries were now quite wealthy and democratization had meant that a large percentage of the population could now claim a bit of this wealth.  Democratization had led to policies favoring higher wages and more leisure time, and both of these assets meant that a larger percentage of the population could do the things that had previously been accessible to only the wealthy.

When dog shows became mass activities,  the caprices of fashion took over. Breeds did not remain static.  The fashions of the ring often led to dogs derived from different strains winning prizes at different shows and at different times.

So in many breeds, it was decided that the best way to keep the dogs of a constant type was to close off the registry. I cannot find the oldest example of a closed registry breed, but it surely dates to no later the end of the nineteenth century.

Once the registry is close, the variation is instantly truncated.  A breed club can then divine a breed standard and the breed the dogs to fit that standard.

Consistency of type is maintained over time, but the rigors of selection and the finite nature of the founding gene pool mean that the animals are put at an increased risk for genetic disease. All sexually reproducing organisms have some genetic tendencies toward disease. It is the fact that reproduce through sexual reproduction that keeps many of these diseases from being exposed. When a population becomes closed off in this fashion, the tendency for some of these diseases to come to the fore is greatly increased. It becomes even more so, when the breeding system becomes based upon breeding from elite sires.

In closed breeding population, the descendants do become more and more related over time, but if just a few elite sires are producing a huge percentage of the offspring in each generation, then this process becomes accelerated. When related individuals are bred together, the greater the likelihood of them producing offspring with genetic disease.  In an entirely outbred population, these genetic diseases become statistically less likely.

Typically these described as deleterious or harmful recessives, but they can have a very complex mode of inheritance– see hip dysplasia.

When these diseases started to come to the fore, it was decided that the first thing that should be done is to breed the diseases out.

In some cases they were successful.  Golden retrievers don’t suffer from hip dysplasia at the same rate they did twenty years ago.

But when you select for or against a feature in a closed population, you cannot avoid selected for or against something else.

Dog breeding is like economics– a very dismal science. The notion of an opportunity cost is always there.  If one breeds for something, one automatically selects against something else.  One cannot always see the consequences of selection in phenotype. For example, Western dog breeders have selected for heavy wrinkling in shar-peis, but the exact same gene that causes the heavy wrinkles also causes the periodic fever disease in this breed. When Portuguese water dog breeders funded a program that provided a genetic test for “improper coat”– feathered like a golden retriever, instead of poodle-type–they were warned that it was a bad idea for breeders to select against the recessive improper coat. Selecting against this coat might lead to a selection against an important variant of a regulatory gene in the breed, which would be very bad for a breed that has some issues with genetic diversity.

Domestic dogs have only been relegated to these islands for a comparatively short time, but it’s pretty clear that we aren’t able to control all the genetic diseases or potential genetic diseases within these island.

Dog breeders like to pretend that they are controlling these diseases. I remember reading a website that gloated over how much Scottish terrier breeders had reduced von Willebrand’s disease in the breed within a decade. However, over that same time period, the incidence of cancer in Scottish terriers greatly increased, and the average lifespan dropped to 10.15 years.

It is here the that concept of the opportunity cost appears once again. Von Willebrand’s disease’s inheritance is well-understood, and it is much easier to select away from it. Cancer is much more complex, and it’s much harder to breed out. Maybe they should have worked on reducing cancer rates in the breed through breeding from long-lived studs instead of carefully selecting away from von Willebrand’s.

But in the end, all we’re doing is playing the whack-a-mole game with genetic diseases. We are hitting one, and another pops up.

The only way to get out of this cycle is to change the breeding system.

We can increase genetic diversity within the islands.

We can make sure that elite sires don’t swamp the gene pool.  We can stop rewarding “outstanding sires” in breed clubs. We can place limits on how many litters a male can sire his lifetime.

We can also make sure that more than just a few puppies in each litter winds up producing offspring. In our current system, we want only a few pups per litter having offspring, but if more puppies are being allowed to breed, then more of their parents’ genes will be spread through the population.

But the best way is to do away with the islands altogether.

I’m not saying that we should scrap the concept of breed entirely. I think there is a reason why someone would chose a particular breed over another.

However, one thing we have learned is that the genetic differences between breeds are quite small.

Golden retrievers, for example, are mostly derived from St. John’s water dogs that have been selected for two recessive traits– the yellow to red color and the feathered coat. If one breeds a golden to a yellow Labrador that does not have the recessive long-haired allele, the pups will be smooth-coated. However, they will carry the long-haired allele, and when bred back to a golden retriever, the chances are very high that some of the puppies would have feathering and would be virtually indistinguishable from typical golden retrievers.

Indeed,  many golden retrievers descend from a yellow Labrador named Hayler’s Defender, who was crossed into the breed in 1929. His descendants don’t have much Labrador in them, but even his closer descendants looked just like normal golden retrievers. In those days, you could interbreed two retriever breeds, and after two generations of them being bred back into one of the constituent breeds, then the puppies could be registered as pure.

Furthermore, golden retrievers are derived from the same root stock as the flat-coated retriever, and detailed analysis of their genomes reveals that they are very closely related. Flat-coated retrievers are quite genetically depauperate and suffer from a very high incidence of cancer.  Consequently, their average lifespans are significantly shorter than those of golden retrievers, which also have a high incidence of cancer.

Golden retrievers also descend from at least one well-known curly-coated retriever. He was black and curly, but all of his golden retriever descendants look like golden retrievers.

For much of their history, retrievers didn’t exist as breeds. There were only two divisions:  a curly-coated retriever and a way-coated retriever/St. John’s water dog type, which included feathered and smooth coats. The dogs that became the Chesapeake Bay retriever in the United States were all interbred short-coated, curly-coated, and long-coated dogs.

Interbreeding was not seen as a disease.

But now it is entirely forbidden– though special dispensation is given to service dog organizations that cross golden and Labrador retrievers.

The modern dog fancy has contrived these islands.

These islands have provided a lot of consistency in type, but over time, they have produced a lot of misery.

Now, we have breeding populations coping with varying levels of genetic load.

It’s not getting significantly better in any of them. In most, it’s getting significantly worse.

So are we going to try to manage these islands, which will ultimately be a losing battle, or are we going to make the common sense changes that are needed?

I would like to think that the latter will happen.

But I know it won’t.

Or rather it will only happen once the kennel clubs are brought kicking and screaming to reform because the law has decided to intervene.

People love dogs.

I mean really love them.

In the past few decades, the status of the dog has greatly increased in the West.

People want dogs that live good lives. They want them to healthy and comfortable.

The vast majority of the dog owning public is appalled when they find out how cavalier breeders are about breeding for unhealthy conformation.  They will be appalled when the find out how many people in the dog fancy deny the concepts of population genetics and hold onto blood purity as a religious dogma.

People are starting to learn these things.

And the dog fancy had better understand it.

The old ways just won’t cut it anymore.

It must adapt. It must embrace science.

It must do away with that which it cannot defend rationally and logically.

It must listen to the real experts– i.e., real scientists and not someone who has “been in Clumber spaniels for 40 years.”

The islands we have contrived are not serving dogs well.

We need something better. We need to allow for greater diversity in genes and a greater diversity in phenotype.

Dogs deserve so much more.

We cannot solve problems by holding onto erroneous ideas of the past.

We can only solve them when we embrace new ideas that are well-grounded in science.

The hope for dogs is that science triumphs over dogma.

And maybe it will.

It may just be a matter of time.

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It’s all about what it looks like, and the only health features discussed are that the nostrils should be open. Never mind the rest of the dog’s respiratory and cooling system! He also repeats the Pravda-esque line that the undershot jaw is of some sort of utility in bull baiting.  Like this dog could ever be used for that purpose!

Source.

I suppose if the only dogs you ever spent much time with were bulldogs, you’d think they were just fine.

The conformation of this breed is a disgrace to the species Canis lupus familaris.

They, of course, don’t see it that way.

Better to breed freaks and win ribbons than pay any attention to animal welfare.

As I noted a few months ago, it’s actually an insult to call these dogs bulldogs. There are plenty of working breeds of bulldog in the United States.

No. I think a far better name for these animals is the Toaddog.

It’s not worthy of the history of the English butcher dog’s name.

It’s a freak, a monstrosity.

A burlesque.

A great tragedy.

 

 

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From Yahoo! News:

The average Dachshund has a maximum weight of 32 pounds; five-year-old Obie (who used to be called AJ; we assume the “Obie” nickname is short for “obese” – aw, poor guy) weighs more than twice that, topping out at 77 pounds when new owner Nora Vanatta met him last month. (That’s seven times what a Miniature Dachshund would weigh.)

His previous owners, an older couple, had to give Obie up because of their own declining health, but thanks to what must have been expert begging by the dog, they’d managed to feed him almost to death in the meantime.

Vanatta is trying to keep Obie’s diet mission fun and optimistic; she’s started a “Biggest Loser Doxie [Dachshund] Edition” on Facebook, so that fans can track Obie’s progress (and maybe get help for their own portly pooches). The goal is for Obie to drop 40 pounds. It’s tough sledding to start out with, however. Because he’s so round, Vanatta can’t take him out for walks, so for now she’s got him on a special diet (a Purina rep helped formulate a low-fat, high-protein meal plan for Obie) and hydrotherapy to start melting the pounds away. Vanatta might incorporate a treadmill later on, once there’s less stress on Obie’s joints and bones. (All this stuff isn’t cheap, as you pet owners can imagine; if you’d like to help out, Vanatta has a PayPal account to raise money for Obie’s care. She’s been quite touched by the support they’ve gotten so far.)

Obie last month, before losing 7 pounds. Photo Nora Vanatta / Facebook.

It’s a job almost as big as Obie himself – but Vanatta thinks he’s worth it. “He is extremely sweet and loving,” she told the UK’s Daily Mail, calling him “a joy to work with.” And while she doesn’t judge his previous owners for overfeeding the plump pup – “[they] just couldn’t say no to those big brown eyes,” she commented – she’s hoping that her other dogs will lead Obie by example, and that Obie in turn “can be an inspiration to any person or animal trying to lose weight.”

Obie’s aiming for a weight between 30 and 40 pounds.

Dachshunds easily put on weight, which is really bad for their often already structurally unsound spines.

But I can understand why an elderly couple could let their dog get fat.

When my grandmother was suffering from Alzheimer’s, her miniature dachshund took advantage of her.

My grandparents always gave the dogs a meal of hot dogs in the evening, and well, Heidi realized that she could get my grandmother to give her more hot dogs than she would have normally had coming to her.

And she went from 8 pounds to 18 pounds– and looked something like a very plump bratwurst.

I hope that Obie slims down.

I can’t image what it would be like for me to be that fat.

As dogs get larger, they also have a harder time getting rid of body heat.

So Obie’s misery is even worse than what a 400-pound human would experience.

Poor dog.

 

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