'Man's best friend' a dubious honor

I've been writing a lot about dogs lately. Last week I wrote about a show dog from Gordonville on its way to Westminster. I also wrote about some kennel dogs from Scott City bred to be shipped all over the country.

The articles elicited more reader response than all the other ones I've written combined. Some people wrote because they were angry at the breeders; others wrote asking where they could buy puppies.

It seems Southeast Missouri, like just about everywhere else, has a healthy love for its four-legged companions.

When writing about our local award-winning corgi, I saw the extent of this passion. Hearing the dog's owners talk about the Westminster Kennel Club dog show was like hearing a baseball fan talk about Cooperstown. Both are hallowed ground.

But to my mind the name "dog show" is kind of a misnomer because in order to win one of these shows a dog must act as un-dog-like as possible.

Think of the guidelines.

Stand still ... nose in the air ... don't bite the judge's hand when he touches your personal zone. The dog has to fight instinct at every moment.

Don't believe me? Just watch the telecast of Westminster. Wait and see if one of the dogs does something really dog-like by peeing on the judge's shoes or sticking his nose where it doesn't belong; see if that dog wins the title "best in show."

And when you really think of it, what kind of title is it? To be named the best of man's best friends seems like kind of a dubious honor to me.

I don't think anyone would argue that man is by far the planet's most difficult species to get along with.

We humans don't tend to play nicely with others. If history is any indication, we prefer mosquito-repellent to bald eagles and motorboats to manatees.

So being our best friend is kind of like being buddies with Kim Jong Il in North Korea. Yeah, you get to sit up front at all the state functions, but at the end of the day it's tough to look at yourself in the mirror.

It's about time we humans were more honest with our best friends. We let dogs stick around because they're the best brown-nosers of the animal world, the top yes-men of the wild kingdom. And if they ever stopped telling us what we wanted to hear they'd go the way of the dodo bird.

But it doesn't seem like dogs have benefited all that much from this relationship. If dogs are our best friends why do we tinker with the pooch gene pool like mad scientists?

The breeder in Scott City told me he gets lots of requests for "specialty breeds," mixes intended to maximize the best characteristics of multiple breeds. These dogs have names like "labradoodle" and "puggle."

People these days are selecting their future pets like they're at Baskin-Robbins. "I like the loyalty of a lab, but you know I really don't want to deal with all that shedding. Does that one come in a hairless?"

The purebreds are no better. Just watch Westminster and you'll hear things like, "This dog was originally bred by Norsemen for retrieving waterfowl and hunting truffles." Some of these hapless creatures plod around looking like characters Dr. Seuss dreamed up and nature never intended.

Is there still time for dogs to reconsider this whole best friend deal?

None of this changes my opinion on the matter. I love dogs of all shapes and sizes. I'm just surprised when they love me back.

TJ Greaney is a reporter for the Southeast Missourian.