“You get cliques, you get jealousy, you get arguments. It’s competition, and people do get like that about competition.”
(Bloomberg) — For the first time that anyone can remember, it snowed for the UK’s Crufts annual dog show, the world’s largest. Pawprints dotted pathways outside, while Spaniels, Hungarian Vizslas, Poodles and freshly groomed others arrived well-protected for four gruelling days of pampering interspersed with the occasional leaping and “ringcraft” in the arena.
Commerce is what drives Crufts — founded in 1891 by the owner of a biscuit dog brand who wanted to sell more treats — but at its core is a ruthless competition. In a typical year the show brings tens of thousands of pedigrees and their owners together under the same roof, showing for 160,000 live viewers.
Veterans call it the “dog game,” a four-day series of knockout rounds where 200 different breeds are judged by their appearance and temperament. It all leads up to a climax on the final day, when a single “Best in Show” is awarded, chosen from some 20,000 animals. Imagine if the Olympics selected a single winner from all the world’s athletes — but with dogs — and you get the idea.
Alison Smith, editor of Our Dogs, a publication aimed at exhibitors, says the format can be a recipe for rivalries. “You get cliques, you get jealousy, you get arguments. It’s competition, and people do get like that about competition,” she says. “The people take it very seriously.”
The show is still reeling from a BBC One documentary Pedigree Dogs Exposed in 2008, which blamed Crufts organiser The Kennel Club for creating an environment which harmed dogs. The BBC dropped the show from its channels after the investigation found that “dogs on show suffer from genetic diseases following years of inbreeding.” This year Crufts is shown on Channel 4, which expects millions of views worldwide across its broadcasts and social-media platforms.
Exhibitors today are keen to emphasise the health of their dogs and equally happy to disparage those outside the Kennel Club umbrella. Several attendees complained about “greeders,” breeders who cash in on demand for puppies without care about their health. But problems persist within the pedigree dog world itself.
Everywhere you look there are signs describing complex medical conditions, like Myxomatous Mitral Valve Disease, a gene which causes heart problems for King Charles Spaniels; and then there’s Hip Dysplasia which afflicts American Akitas, and eye problems which can be common in many breeds.
The biggest problem that dog welfare charities have is with the “Brachy breeds,” a shortening of “Brachycephalic Syndrome” which causes severe respiratory distress in dogs like the Bulldog, Pug and Boxer. After centuries of breeding and in-breeding which has limited genetic diversity, many of these dogs now suffer from breathing problems caused by their flat faces. They are also prone to skin infections caused by their folded and wrinkled skin.
The Kennel Club says it now requires vets to test dogs that are on a list of “at risk” breeds at every show in the UK before they can proceed to competition. After the BBC documentary, the Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals (RSPCA) and The Dogs Trust, two of the UK’s largest animal-welfare charities, stopped exhibiting at Crufts. Neither have returned.
“Progress has been incredibly slow,” says the RSPCA’s dog welfare expert Samantha Gaines. “We want to see urgent intervention for these types of dogs.”
At Crufts, the power of the idea of the pedigree dog, where both parents are of the same breed, is incredibly strong.
Poodle owner Liz Lath physically recoils when asked why Cockapoos, a popular crossbred dog from a Cocker Spaniel and a Poodle, are so popular. “Oh yeah, not good,” she says of Cockapoos. “They’re cross breeds. They’re mongrels, basically.”
The advantages of buying a Poodle instead from a Kennel Club registered breeder is that they are more likely to have spent money having the parents tested, which costs about £600 per dog. With Cockapoos, “you don’t know what you’re going to get. You can get 20 Cockapoos, and every one would be different,” says her husband, Jeff.
Pedigrees are born when both parents come from the same breed. They typically have their origins in landowners who selected puppies for their needs on farming estates, the “working” dogs, or simply because they liked their look, known as “toys.” These categories of competition continue today.
Today’s trendy dogs like the Cockapoo aren’t welcome in the main competitions. The Kennel Club created a spin-off show Scrufts for them in 2000. “To be a pedigree, it has to be going a few hundred years to be recognized to then say that this is what this dog should look like,” says Ellie Reeve, 32. “It’ll be a few hundred years before you see a Cockapoo [at Crufts].”
Reeve, who attended to meet a potential breeding partner for her “girl,” owns one of the most recently invented pedigrees: the Golden Retriever.
Jack Hazelhurt, 67, treasurer of the Golden Retriever Club, a national organization in the UK with 1,500 members, says the glossy golden coat of this family-friendly dog is less than 150 years old, making it a relative newcomer.
“A chap called Lord Tweedmouth on the Guisachan shooting estate near Inverness in Scotland found a yellow dog in one of his litters,” which would usually be black, he said. “And he was rather taken with it, so he experimented with it and ended up creating a new breed,” he says.
Even within the pedigree world, some dog owners resent the all-powerful Kennel Club’s decisions about who qualifies for competition.
Heidi Anderton, head groomer at Absolutely Animals, owns three Poodles with two-tone coats, which are considered “undesirable colors,” according to the rules.
“It’s racism in dogs, that’s what it is,” she says. “It’s a naturally reoccurring gene within the breed, and both both sets of parents have to have it to get their two colors. What the breeders do is they breed dogs where they haven’t got that gene to get the solids.”
“The truth is that before the internet they culled any that had two colors to get rid of the gene.”
Ultimately, there is little exhibitors can do about the pedigree club rules, especially when it comes to the competition. But judges openly admit that the criteria for winning is subjective. Even perfect “ringcraft,” the act of showing a dog in the ring, will only get you so far.
“It’s a bonus just to get shortlisted,” says Diane Knights, 71, who is helping to judge one of the early rounds of the crowded Golden Retriever competition. The huge number of entries for certain popular breeds — this year there are almost 500 goldens in competition — means that selecting a winner often comes down to subjective judging.
“I’ve got to really like the head. The head has got to be masculine, and a bitch ultra feminine,” says Knights.
“I’ve got a thing about the front legs have got to be straight, and not too wide. That is my bugbear. There’s certain bugbears we have. I can’t bear it if the tail is sticking up in the air if it shouldn’t be.”
While we speak, a winner of this round is selected, a man wearing a smart blazer, with a tan and a neatly trimmed beard. He holds the head and tail of his Retriever straight for the judge.
“I think the judge quite likes the owner as well,” she says. It sounds like the owner’s appearance may have swayed the decision.
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