I’m a Chessie. My people didn't emerge from some fashionista’s design brief. We were forged. Fishermen and professional hunters needed a dog that could punch through ice, swim for hours in water cold enough to kill a lesser animal, and still come back dragging a fish net, or grinning with a black duck in its mouth.
Nobody asked if we were cute. Nobody asked if we were hypoallergenic. They asked if we could work, and the answer — for over two hundred years — has been an unambiguous yes.
So you will understand my feelings when I hear that no-one is bothering to breed working dogs anymore — the real money is in the doodle. Goldendoodles, labradoodles, bernedoodles, schnoodles, cavapoos, cockapoos — if it can stand on four legs and a poodle can get near it, humans have crossed it, named it and designed expensive clothes for it.
That is, a dog bred — and I want to be precise here — not to retrieve anything, not to round up a flock of unruly sheep, bring a herd of rowdy cattle to heel — or sniff out a drug runner or an arsonist or a would-be terrorist with a van full of explosives. No, a dog bred not to do a single solitary thing except be photographed in a silk scarf and generate engagement on Instagram.
I am told that these poodle-crosses are now the most popular dogs in the country, sought after for their “non-shedding” coats and “affable” personalities. To an old-fashioned working dog, “non-shedding” sounds like a suspiciously convenient way of saying you aren't working hard enough to lose a few hairs. Shedding is a sign of a life well lived in the elements.
A designer groodle can cost $6000 whereas your kelpie or border collie off a working farm might be $500 to $1000. Even a well-bred Labrador with pedigree papers struggles to fetch $2500. So you can see why the breeders are heading for the money.
So yes, I’m appalled. I’m appalled that a dog can cost more than a decent outboard motor and yet not know how to swim in a straight line. And I’m appalled that the old words — retriever, spaniel, hound — now often matter less than whether your nose matches the kitchen tiles.
The doodle people will tell you their dogs are smart. Fine. Poodles are smart, I'll grant them that. But intelligence without purpose is just anxiety with better posture.
My job, for 84 dog years, has been to be ready. Ready to go in the water. Ready to find the bird. Ready to work. That's all I ever wanted to do. I have never once needed a blow-dry, or a grooming session every six weeks for $150.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I have to admit it is quite some time since I retrieved an actual duck. The last time a genuine bird was involved, it could easily have been dead after having an altercation with a window.
Now I look forward to the winter fires in the living room, where I can be found asleep. For several hours. Sometimes I dream about ducks, which I feel should count for something. Woof!
