Any Way You Splice It
Hybrid "designer" dogs might be just a fad. All I know is that joy seems to follow ours everywhere.
We set out to buy a puppy. We ended up buying into a trend. Now there is a budding celebrity in the family. Not an A-lister swarmed by paparazzi, but enough of an attraction to turn heads and stop cars. Fans frequently snap photos during his morning constitutionals and other public appearances. Fortunately, he revels in the attention and especially enjoys doting on young admirers.
The star is Licorice, a 17-month-old goldendoodle. That's half golden retriever, half poodle - one of the hot crop of "designer" dog crossbreeds. The name sounds slightly silly, more like a snack food than noble canine. New and improved goldendoodles, now with more cheese flavor! And there is nothing golden about his appearance - an ink-black coat covers him like a '70s shag rug and grows up to 5 inches long. (Goldendoodles are available in a variety of colors to match their owners' decors. Naturally.) But when he pads down a sidewalk, tongue wagging below an olive-shaped nose, that forest of hair flapping every which way - it is like an 80-pound stuff ed animal has jumped from a toy store shelf.
The designer concept is simple, if somewhat Frankensteinish: Mix the genes of two purebred dogs to create one that theoretically displays the best attributes of each. It's called "hybrid vigor." Don't ask me to explain the science. Hybrid possibilities are dizzying. For instance, a beagle and bulldog become a beabull. Equal parts Pomeranian and pug make a pom-a-pug. Introduce a dachshund to a Maltese and stand back - the liaison may produce a mauxie.
It took me years to come around to the idea of adding a dog to the household. I raised two golden retrievers as a teenager and quickly learned the commitment runs deep. As an adult, I felt too busy to properly care for a dog. Or maybe too selfish. They need to run, they need to be around people and other dogs. They require attention. So whenever the subject of puppy hunting came up, I said the timing wasn't right. That worked until our daughter grew old enough to claim full voting rights. Then I was outnumbered.
Extensive research was conducted to find a dog that came close to meeting my ambitious standards - a self-starter able to earn enough income to off set food and veterinarian bills. My wife winnowed out fidgeters, yappers, and breeds that grow like weeds. Goldendoodles topped her short list, based on their easygoing dispositions, lack of shedding, smarts, and my lingering soft spot for retrievers. It was the kind of dog I could be sold on, she figured.
Pet advocates fear that hybrids are merely an offshoot of our unbridled obsession with anything newer and cooler. In a blog entry on pet-industry trends, Laura Bennett, an executive with a pet-insurance company, predicted that 2008 "will see the rapid growth of the puppy farm hybrid to take advantage of the inflated prices people are paying for these dogs." There is money in exploitation, and almost everything is disposable, including animals.
Some say it is not necessary to breed new types of dogs when so many unwanted ones are euthanized every day. But Licorice can coax a smile from the most sullen passerby and instantly turn a sour day palatable. Believe me, this guy is performing essential work. It's hard to feel guilty about owning a dog whose mission is to make people happier.
Truth is, if it were not for my trepidation, my wife would have adopted an abandoned or abused pet. Friends of ours are tenderly rehabilitating two tiny dogs that were raised in cages, and I admire them for it. While they showed their new arrivals that not all humans are monsters, I worried about Licorice scratching the hardwood floors. But the softness of his eyes soon made me forget the sharpness of his nails, and today none of us could imagine the house without him. Actually, there was never much for me to complain about. From the start, my wife shouldered most of the care and maintenance. I had the simplest task: Fall in love.
Mark Pothier is the assistant business editor for the Globe. E-mail him at mpothier@globe.com.
