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Breeding, Closed Registry, Genetics, Inbreeding, Open Registry, Ponderings 3 Responses »

Sep 172011

When I approached the supervisors in the Zoology and Environmental wings of the Biology—Earth Sciences department as an undergraduate at University of Alberta, it was advised not to solicit advice for breeding from either the Microbiology or Genetics. The zoologists disclosed many of the people in these fields have a hallowed view of the world as the system delegates them to a career within the academic bubble offered by labs most of their lives with comparatively little field experience adjacent to their peers. On the other hand, the lab technicians’ works are vital as they release findings about DNA and enzyme markers; many techniques were imparted which are now actively being employed in the field. However, like everyone, most don’t have expertise in all facilities.

It is understandable why someone would seek consultation from a geneticist or a microbiologist, after all, they hold all the answers a breeder is looking for when it pertains to genetics. However the world isn’t a petri dish which can be sterilized. None of the animals we breed are in a vacuum like most laboratory specimen are confined to. A lab rat isn’t going to have the same plasticity of living in the walls of somone’s house as their wild counterpart. For a long time, the concept wasn’t grasped by this blogger as most reptiles live in sterilized Rubbermaids; and the logic at the time, a specimen free of deleterious diseases no longer face problems. However it is a bit fallacious to assume because domestic beings no longer live in the wild, they are no longer subjected to natural selection. It took years to register this factoid.

One cannot compare dogs with uniformly homozygous lab rats. Dogs romp around, they wade into lakes, they eat dirt and catch the occasional squirrel; and worst of all, they are still being predated upon by other critters. Man’s best friends become ill or get hurt in the process. Nature is constantly testing their plasticity every time we take them out for a walk as the dog inhabits an inbetween world we don’t share.

The argument from conservation biologists is this: nothing is ever static. The environment and its inhabitants is constantly changing all the time; and it favours populations who are the most adept at stabilizing in arising conditions. We need to stop thinking of canines as beings who can be chiseled and perfected, but rather as beings well-equipped to deal with anything thrown at them. It is a great disservice to future generations, some may consider it as a crime, to rob them of the best tools at hand for dealing with crises. It is with great regrets the wisdom of these evolutionary and conservation biologists went unheeded back when breeding for kicks as a young adult was trendy.

The Gazehund

Riley 3 Responses »

Jul 262011

It was time to take Riley out to the Farmers Market in middle of Vancouver. We were to share a loaf of sour-dough bread after two weeks of being on a rice diet. How mundane.

We went to a dock tucked away in middle of the reeds by the lake, so I could catch up on my readings and Riley wouldn’t be distracted by pedestrians walking their dogs. I took off his purple slip-leash. He wouldn’t go anywhere, and if he did– I could always grab him by his orange backpack. He laid down beside me, and rested his head on my crossed knees.

About twenty minutes later, his radar went off, ears moving in all direct. His head perked up. He glared at an indistinguishable far off object. All that was in sight was greenery. “Stay,” firmly I reminded him.
He looked back, and gave me the stink-eye, No.
“Stay. You need to stay,” reaffirming him.
No. I see something.
“You know better. You are supposed to stay here.”
Hah, no.

I reached over to grab his backpack, but it was too late: he bolted. I had no idea what he saw, until I walked out into the field. In broad daylight, he was pursuing a rabbit toward the parking lot into the thickets in front of dozens of people. “God-fucking-damnit, Riley,” hoarsely escaped from my breath as the Irish cap was thrown into the ground and nearly breaking my foot from kicking a nearby post out of frustrating embarrassment.

Picking the hat back up, I knew at this point, recall was fundamentally useless. What was more important was trying to figure out where Ri went. Scanning the horizon for a blazing orange, he was nowhere to be seen. What if he ran out into the roads? Did he get hit by a car? Did it means I have go back home without a dog? The heart raced.

Suddenly, an Elkhound-like dog came up behind me. Smiling and panting. “Good boy, you came back,” I praised him while kneeling down to stroke his face.
I always come back. You worry too much, he panted with a grin.
“I know, but we are at a park. People don’t like free-roaming dogs.”
Cocking his head, staring at me wondering if I lost my marbles, Not their problem.
“Other dogs don’t like being approached.”
Then they are assholes. Who wouldn’t want a cute puppy like me?
“But we are by a road.”
He sat down and panted heavily, Ha, I won’t get hit by a car. You know that.
“Perhaps. Don’t be so cocky. Where did you run off too?”
Come, I show you. He took a few steps, then looked back. As I got up, he paced toward a nearby juniper bush. Here.

Picking up the limp black and white rabbit, I inspected it. It was a domesticated feral. There is quite a few of them around. For some reason people think it is more humane to release their pets in the park, even though they would fall prey to stray cats, tower-dwelling hawks and street-savvy coyotes. It was a fine buck, about three–five pounds. No puncture marks. No laceration. Nothing. It was difficult to tell if he actually caught the rabbit or if the rabbit died of a heart attack.

He reared back and placed his forelegs on my knee. What’s that?
“It’s a rabbit.”
Huh?
“Rabbit.”
Okay, got it!
“Guess it’s dinner for the ‘yotes tonight,” I said before chucking it into the bush. I never cooked with rabbits before, and was ill-prepared to skin one. Maybe some day, but not now, I thought.
Hahahaha. It was fun. Then he went into the juniper to pull out the carcass and panted with a grin.
“No, leave it. Not today.”
He dropped the body, then picked it back up again, Why? It’s mine.
“Leave it, Riley. We are not taking it home.”
Hahahaha, okay! Let do this again sometimes.
“We shall. I never gone rabbiting before. I wonder how well you would take to the boomstick.”
What’s that? He cocked his head, with an inquirying shine in his eyes.
“You will find out someday.”

The Rat Catcher and His…

Ferret No Responses »

Mar 302011

via old-picture.com (circa 1900s, New York) [Image: Unknown]

Please remind me why a terrier is needed. Ferrets are far more effective for working vermin than cats and dogs: mice, rats, groundhogs, ground squirrels, prairie dogs, snakes.

I know this from experience, once the duplex I rented in Edmonton, AB, had a mice infestion, and a pair of African Soft-furred Rats escaped, Rousseau the ferret made short work of them. Similarly, a friend in Bellingham, WA shared a story about how she used ferrets to clear the walls and balcony of rats. These domesticated weasels are extremely intelligent creatures, sometimes seemingly more intelligent than dogs.

It is unfortunate ferretting in North America is banned in many places just because of a few environmental scares of the polecat hybridization re-wilding in New Zealand and other insular cases. Nowadays, if one wishes to do groundworks, or simple pest management, it has to be done on private land and kept hush-hush.

How Dogs Influene a Person

Ponderings 1 Response »

Mar 092011

[Image: Melanie P.]

Tod is reserved, but not aloof around strangers; friendly and loves all humans yet he only trusts his family unit. He is friendly with the others, but mind his own business; only to intervene if he thinks another dog is being offensive, for example: not walking nicely on a leash, getting muddy and so on. He never initiates fights, but he is not a pushover either and would give a lot of warning signs before a blaze of fur and fury breaks out, and usually he comes out on top. He is too independent to be a model citizen, yet at the same time, he is always fixated on his partner; even if he ran off to explore and seemingly would never come back. He’s a puzzle-solver and went about his own way, but understands the urgency of the situation when it’s time to listen. He is gentle and understanding, yet stubborn and sassy; socially soft and pliable, yet witty, headstrong and would pop a human’s inflated ego in an instant. Forgiving, but never forgets how a person wronged him. He’s loyal and seeks affections, but humble and approaches his subjects with grace. Tod has this uncanny ability to read emotions, and always lays by people’s legs or by their side, but never once is he a lapdog. He waits by the window, unmoving, for his favourite person to come back from the store or from school sitting in the same position for hours on end, sometimes days. He is always game for an adventure. He is there if you want to weep, curl up in a pitiful ball and wallow in misery all day. It’s funny how a dog who acts so indifferent toward his owners during the best of times can be so emotionally-linked during the worst of times. His motto: “always be cool.”

See, my family always had dogs around, but Tod is my dog. He will always be my dog. I will singlehandedly choose him over all the other dogs we have had. No matter what dog I’ll come across, I will always yearn for the temperament in which he carries.

Problem is: when I started looking at Shiba Inus to get another one like Tod, none of the ones I met even have remotely the same temperament. His temperament is genetic as he is a carbon copy of his father; however I wouldn’t go back to the kennel where he hailed from since there were debatable animal rights “issues” surrounding the place. It only recently occurred to me, even though hunting spitzes are familiar and are no strangers, Tod is more similar to the Nordic spitzes than he is to the East Asiatic spitzes [Jindos and the Nihon-ken] even though blood tells otherwise. Supposedly socialization has a lot to do with a Shiba’s temperament, but my family lives way out in the boonies, so actually Tod has less socialization in comparison to the apartment-raised counterparts yet he turns out wonderfully. In fact, he is so radically different from the others, Japanese exchange students are shocked he is gentle since Shiba Inus have somewhat of a reputation in their homeland. It occurred to me, even if I did go back to his original breeder, the bloodline is most likely to be phased out as it was over fifteen years ago when we first got Tod. That, and the puppies who bore his father’s personality just stopped being a visual part of society.

I could care less about the Akitas, Jindos or Shibas; but when I meet a Finnish Spitz, a Norwegian Elkhound or even a Karelian Bear Dog, it hurts. Hurts so badly, I just want to ask the owners for permission to hug them and cry, but I never do– and normally there’s never a desire to be affectionate with other people’s dogs. It’s not socially acceptable to cry in public with a stranger’s dog– especially for a male. This is something I am realizing now: why I am so odd around certain breeds– I have a certain preference for temperament.

Now, Riley the Swedish Vallhund reminds me of Tod the Shiba Inu; after all, that’s why I picked the Vallhund breed– based on his uncle Thor. Thor was favoured based upon how similar his and Tod’s eye expressions were. However it still didn’t feel the same. Similarly, I like Australian Cattle Dogs for the same reason– the independent stubborn streak but forever and fiercely loyal, and yet the pieces are not all there. However whenever I meet a Nordic hunting spitz, the pieces just fall into places. Funny, eh? If only I can comprehend the mystic of the elkhound landrace.

Now that being said: Riley is my partner. He is trust-worthy off-the-leash. He’s actually obedient for once and he’s an attention-whore for people, which is what I actually want since there are days I feel like taking him down to a place and cheer up random people who had a shit day and walk away happy after their encounter with him– you know, a therapy dog? I could take him to work with me or on the transit system if I want to. So Riley is everything I want in a dog. He’s my partner, but he’s not my equal yet. Key word: “yet.” Maybe once he gets older, and become more like his uncle Thor, there will be some closure. I made the right decision to purchase Riley, and I adore him, spoil the heck out of him, and sleep with him. So things will work out, I am already too attached to him anyway.

See, I have always liked dogs, but I was never really loyal to a certain type until the day we brought Tod home. And no, it wasn’t puppy lust, it just felt right. Everything just fell into places the day we met him.

So, if people ask if I have a certain preference? I do, just never really realized how ingrained that preference was until recently. And… I am spiteful knowing Tod’s bloodline has been terminated. Guess that’s why some people get into breeding dogs.

Pariah Dogs

Dogs 6 Responses »

Dec 302010

via en.wikipedia.org

Lately, a lot of these street dogs from Taiwan and India are showing up in Canada’s major cities. They’re usually brought over here because adopting a shelter mutt is the latest craze, and in order to keep the pens full for potential adoptees, the shelters have been regularly importing street dogs from all over the world.

The medium-size dogs usually have long tails that curls loosely, with tricolour or tan coat that is either smooth or thin, well-defined hinds with visible ribs and narrow heads. But these shelter imports are unlike any sighthounds or westernized crosses I’ve seen. The only thing I can find out is my friends call them “pariah dogs” or “street dogs” that they remember in Bombay or their home village in India.

I am starting to see more and more of these dogs at the dog parks in the last two years. The odd thing is, instead of telling the new owners about the dogs of India, the shelters apply the western breed standards upon their imported dogs. Most often, these dogs from India are labelled as “greyhound,” “whippet” or “Afghan” crosses with a herding-type breed such as “corgi,” “collie,” a”heeler” or even “Australian shepherd.” It’s rather bizarre shelter workers would try to guess the composition rather than being upfront about the origins. With so many different unrecognized and rare breeds out there, why bother trying to guesstimate the composition?

Cinder & Me

Ponderings No Responses »

Dec 242010

For a long time, I avoided high-energy dogs mostly because of an experience with a relative’s dog: a Dalmatian named Cinder. She was wild, hyper-protective and full of unfocused energy. It’s because of her, I am wary of high-energy dogs.

My family considered Cinder a stupid dog because she could never stay still long enough to think things through before licking off a grill, eat things which would make her sick, or to heel before rushing someone who is not used to hyperactive dogs. We cannot deny her loyalty to protect the family when she had a skirmish with a cougar though. We didn’t know Dalmatians were bred have these spotty characteristics. Either way, she wasn’t a dog considered desirable by our immediate family. A “bad dog.”

Watching the film Marley & Me two days ago reminds me of Cinder the Dalmatian: a field-bred Labrador Retriever who ended up in the hands of a journalist pressed for spare time. Like Marley, Cinder did better when her owners moved out to an acreage in Crownest Pass. See, she wasn’t stupid, and her owners weren’t incompetent either. She was just the wrong breed for my expectations.

Well, it wasn’t until I met Border Collies, Jack Russell Terriers and Australian Cattle Dogs in the average suburban homes, the nervousness around hyperactive dogs dispersed. It’s because of these breeds, I warmed up to the high-energy, high-driven dogs. But still, am I haunted by the spotted dog with A.D.H.D.

Now that being said, I grew to love high-energy dogs after I realized many of them actually do have focused energy. The one that affects me most was a rescue German Shepherd named Sammy, who was eventually given away to a farm. Now, it’s unfortunate the family he was with was unable to give him the attention he needed since he could easily be a city dog if someone has the time to walk him at least an hour or two a day to calm nerves to ease his neurotic and obsessive behaviours. I know this because my family spent time with Sammy when his previous owners couldn’t find the time to do so.

With Sammy, the original plan was for me to move in with my cousin from the Navy in Edmonton while I attended post-secondary, but by the time such an arrangement could be made, his owners had enough and Sammy was re-homed to a ranch. In hindsight, it didn’t really matter since I decided I needed the dorm experience and gain a sense of community first instead of taking on a hyperactive German Shepherd who could easily outweighs me. One of those “what ifs” scenarios best left unanswered.

Another dog who got me to warms up was a Border Collie, obsessed with stalking birds, but he wasn’t bad. The collie was more high-strung than Cinder, but he wasn’t throwing his aura all over the place. Along the same line was a Jack Russell cross in Calgary, owned by my godmother, who as long he’s honed in like a laser with fetching the ball, he’s actually quite a calm dog at the end of the day. These accounts and many more make me wonder if high-energy dogs are in the cards for me, just I prefer them to be obsessive; and not, as one blogger puts it, “scatty” like Cinder was.

I think I connect to the purposeful breeds because I am neurotic myself; and even though I am all over the map, there’s a hyperfocus when I find something. So, high-energy dogs who finds a purpose in what they do are my preference. I just don’t like high-energy dogs who requires Ritalin to channel her energy.

Sometimes I wish I never met Cinder, or otherwise I would had found out I do, in fact, love neurotic dogs. I suppose it’s better to be cautious with a bad experience by proxy than it is to create your own bad experience due to ignorance and become another statistics.

Canine Phonetics

Tod No Responses »

Dec 222010

Oftentimes people think of being biddable is a sign of intelligence in a dog. Obviously they don’t look at the glaze and see if there’s a curious mind locked in there or not. Now, by many people’s definition, Tod, the Shiba Inu, would be defined as a stupid dog since he seldom listens to commands.

Tod does listens, but only if he is benefiting from the scenario, otherwise he’s off in his own world; hardly an obedient dog. He wanders about the neighbourhood whenever he gets a chance, only coming back when he finds something to share or is hungry or thirsty.

I thought about what people speak about sighthounds and many of the nomadic breeds like huskies, complaining they are stupid. Unfortunately, most of these people who make comments as such obviously never lived with such dogs.

I remember someone said we were bad dog owners if we couldn’t get him to do reliable recalls. Obviously such a person never lived with a hunting dog or a nomadic breed. She still maintains this opinion even to this day.

What makes Tod special? He can identify objects, and he has different sound for each of them. Sounds? Forget that. Try actual words. True, he won’t be able to formulate his own words and construct a sentence, but he does have sounds resembling words like: “me” as in himself, “mom,” “out now,” “hamburger,” “hot dog,” “rice,” “pepperoni,” “water,” “kibble,” “meow,” “pet me,” “cat,” “raven,” “walk,” “play,” “ball,” “tug,” “sit,” “down,” “crawl” and many more. He even surprised our vet with “I don’t like it” in response to procedures he associate discomforts with such as the eye-pressure tests. He even got names for each individual person who came into his life more than three or four times. If that wasn’t bad enough, he also learned how to read American Sign Language.

No, we didn’t teach him the signs. What happened was Tod would get so hyper about us hearing certain words like “walk” and “steak” or “pork loin,” as a family, we started having conversation in my native language, ASL, then from thereon he picked up the individual signs within a day of seeing them. Not only he learned the individual spoken English words, modified his pitches to imitate the words, and how to sight-read the signs, he also learned to imitate the signs as well. And no, we didn’t teach him these. We did not reward him with anything, except go: “ah crap.” In fact, we tried to discourage him from associating such words and sounds with objects.

I am sure at this point, you’re wondering: “does he bark?” No, he just have yelps, yowls, yawns, pitches and different variations of growls. In fact, if other dogs bark in the neighbourhood, he just go back inside the house or try to find the quietest place in the house. No, this doesn’t means he’s quiet. All it means is he doesn’t bay like hounds, yap like toy dogs or bark like herding dogs and hunting spitzes.

So ask yourself this, even though this dog has poor recall, only sits or lies when it see itself in an advantageous position, what would you call a dog who not only learned what English words means, but also copied them? Not only that, but did the same thing with a manual language as well. Would you consider this dog stupid?

Lurchers

Dogs No Responses »

Dec 212010

via agilitybits.co.uk

Yesterday, Riley found an unhealthy obsession: a lurcher. I don’t blame him for harassing the lurcher at the dog park. So what are lurchers? Simple, a sighthound crossed with a stock dog, a terrier or a gun dog.

Now, I find these dogs interesting. No, not because of what they are used for or what they are, but why they are used. See, where I was from, the only working dogs one would see are gun dogs for recreational purposes, collies as general farm dogs, shepherds for protection and heelers as stock dogs. Terriers are sighthounds are merely companions.

Except I don’t ever recall seeing a sighthound while growing up. They’re more common in the big cities rather than out in rural areas. It’s not like sighthounds are adept for the -40c and +40C extremes we would get over the years. Well, except lurchers.

Now, traditionally, lurchers are used for coursing hares, foxes and rabbits. However we had no use for such sports– I means after all, in northern Alberta, one is more likely to hunt fowls or big games such as moose than to go fox-chasing; and dealing with rabbits and vermin are considered as hillbilly activities.

Since intact ex-racers are easy to find, some of the farmers would cross a whippet or a greyhound with a breed better suited for the bitter cold weather and dry hot summers, and more sturdy; one sturdy enough to take on a coyote. There’s not a lot of lurchers when I was growing up, and they are a rarity; but people would keep them in the back of their pickups and whenever a lurcher sees or hears a coyote, the dog would jump out of the back of a moving truck and initiates the chase, then the owner would pull over, stand by the vehicle and wait for their dog to return.

Like I said, there’s not a lot of them around while I was growing up. People were more interested in working heelers and companion pets than keeping the coyotes at bay. Ranchers and chicken farmers would rather adopt shepherd crosses from the SPCA to keep the coyotes and foxes away from the livestocks. On the other hand, crop growers love having these wild canines around because it means less vermin and better yields. Interesting animal-human dynamic there.

So, I have never seen a purebred sighthound while living out in the boonies, and even then lurchers are quite rare since shepherd crosses are more popular for livestock guardianship rather than coursing coyotes. But working lurchers can be found. Seeing the lurcher at the dog park yesterday reminds me of home.

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