By JAMES D. WATTS JR. Scene Writer on Feb 19, 2010, at 12:23 AM Updated on 2/19 at 12:23 AM
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This has not, by any standard, been a good week for far too many people.
We've been horrifically reminded how fragile ...
Celebrity Attractions announced that Disney Theatricals will donate a portion of this week's ticket sales to the Tulsa run ...
Tulsa native Tracy Letts won the Outstanding Actor in a Play at the 58th annual Drama Desk Awards, presented Sunday night ...
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The acronym that is the title for this post is something – now that
the Westminster Kennel Club Dog Show is over for this year – I hope
future judges of this event will keep in mind.
It stands for "Any Dog Other Than a Poodle."
I have watched the Westminster Kennel Club show regularly for the past
couple of decades – which might strike some people who know me as a
little odd, as I am more of a cat person than a dog person (of course,
there are some who know me – and multitudes who don't – who think
I'm more than a little odd in any case, but I digress).
The fact is, I am hard-pressed to remember a year in which at least one poodle was not part of the final seven dogs in the Best in Show competition. And, if memory serves me right, there have been one or two years when multiple poodles where vying for this obviously coveted title.
I have nothing against poodles per se. True, in my younger and more acerbic days, I did claim that poodles were not dogs, but rather the abandoned remnants of a failed alien invasion of Earth. But these days, I think that the reasons why the sight of poodles in the dog show ring bothers is that they are examples of the dog show concept at its worst.
A dog show is – let’s be honest here – a celebration of human genetic engineering. Most, if not all, the breeds of dogs these days are products of selective breeding, as people tried to isolate and enhance certain characteristics they deemed necessary or suitable, or to fashion something entirely new. I don’t have a problem with this; it’s a part of the whole process of domesticating animals and has been done – usually with salutary effect – for centuries.
The poodle, however, has been subjected to a different sort of engineering – external rather than internal. I refer, of course, to the absolutely ludicrous haircut that is required of poodles in order to be in shows such as Westminster. This is human engineering at it’s worst, because it is utterly pointless. But it is also the most visible sort of human control, of bending animals to one’s will, of remaking nature in the image man wants it to have, that is allowed in the dog show world, which might be why dog show judges seem honor bound to include poodles as often as they can in their selections for prizes.
Do not try – do not even BEGIN to try – to tell me that there is a practical application to this unsightly wack-job. The show’s announcers always make a great point about saying that carving the dog’s coat into this silly balls of fur – which always look as if said dog rolled around in glue, then in cotton balls – was doing to “keep the dog’s joints warm when they went into water after game.”
Oh, puh-leeze. Pull the other one, why don’t you. Better yet, Mr. Dog Show Announcer, why don’t you strip down your smalls, tug on some woolen mittens and socks, wrap your neck in a fur collar and glue a pair of ear muffs to your hips, dive into an icy cold pond and see how comfortable and efficient in the water you are.
Show poodles get this silly hair do because it was created for shows. Poodles were popular in French circuses, which is one reason why these dogs were once known as “French poodles.”
Who else but the French would come up with such a look? I can imagine some fun-loving Frenchman making up the whole “Ees to kep zee dawg’s join’s wahrm” fib, then sniggering happily to himself when he realized some gullible somebody bought it.
I’ve known more than few poodles in my life and the one’s that were stereotypically high-strung, neurotic and surprisingly vicious were all dogs that had been subjected to this dubious sort of “grooming.”
On the other hand, the poodles I’ve known that have been allowed to have their coats grow naturally have been rather splendid dogs.
Some dogs have bizarre coats, like the puli and the kommodor, with their heavy cords, or the billowy bales of hair that surround the English sheepdog. These, however, are more or less natural. There is nothing at all natural about what people do to poodles that are heading for the show ring.
At least poodles don’t win too often at Westminster. Which makes me wonder – when a poodle does win Best in Show, who gets the prizes? The breeder? The owner? The handler? Or the person who wields the dog clippers?
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