Within the fancy there’s a growing awareness of the need to bring greater attention to the fact that many recognized breeds of dogs lack the support necessary to ensure their survival. It’s not that purebred dogs don’t have their supporters. They do, and many of today’s serious breeders continue to do their part to protect, preserve, and promote. However, more than a few breeds have fallen into relative obscurity despite the best efforts of their conservation-minded creators. The problem stems, in part, from a shift in the type of dog desired by the general public. Mixed breeds and mongrels have caught on, and in many communities these dogs have been wholeheartedly embraced by middle-class Americans who had previously registered their purebred puppies en masse with the American Kennel Club.
For much of the 20th century, an expanding middle class created a market for virtually everything—including purebred dogs. Home ownership became the symbol of success, with a television antenna on the roof and a station wagon in the driveway. The house itself was filled with the latest appliances (which were built to last) and the backyard featured a pool that was always filled with kids and clean water. Completing the picture was the family dog, sometimes a “mutt” but often a faithful friend of a recognizable breed. Hounds, Terriers, and Toys had their supporters in virtually every neighborhood, and these dogs eventually became status symbols in their own right. After all, a hunting dog signified having leisure time to hunt; having a hunting dog that didn’t actually hunt indicated something even more extraordinary.
Fast forward to today and people still choose the dog that represents how they view themselves—or how they want to be perceived by others. Ever mindful of the need for “keeping up with the Joneses,” today’s middle-class dog owners have become “pet parents” not only of recognizable breeds but also of intentionally bred mixes and mongrels marketed for “adoption.” The purebred dog, which was once an aspirational choice for someone who grew up in an apartment and moved to the suburbs, has all but been replaced by two distinctly different kinds of canine companions. The first option, those ubiquitous “doodles,” are indicative of a major cultural shift that began in the late 1990s. For the past few decades, Americans have been signaling their status through unessential purchases—often made with borrowed money. That great big diesel pickup in the driveway? It comes with a $1200 monthly payment. That McMansion? The mortgage is underwater. That double doodle with the colorful coat? It cost five grand and has a hefty grooming bill but no health guarantee. Oh well, aren’t you impressed by it all?
Those “rescue” dogs, on the other hand, are sought by consumers with a different goal in mind. The dog with a hard-luck story and an undiagnosed behavior issue appeals to a person who isn’t necessarily interested in signaling their supposed success. Instead, virtue signaling may be the goal. Whereas doodles are now considered to be “breeds” by many, rescues have no such identity. Unlike their crossbred counterparts, their provenance requires a (re)telling of their saga from victimhood to salvation. Though doodlers may feel the need to tell someone their dog is a “shichon,” rescuers can regale listeners (often unsolicited) with stories that counter mistreatment and abuse with generosity and empathy. A more noble choice, for sure, but the desire to offer a “furever home” has created an unregulated global industry to satisfy the demand. An industry that, by definition, requires some degree of suffering.
Today’s mom-and-pop breeders of purebred dogs now find themselves in competition with previously unknown sources that produce dogs for a public influenced by online searches and algorithms instead of TV shows and movies. Whereas previous generations found a dog in the classified section of the local paper, consumers now respond to pop-up ads on smart phones that have them falling in love with an image and booking a flight to bring home a sassy soulmate or recalcitrant rescue. Who rescued who, indeed?
Of course, popularity in dogs has always been predicated on a free market that determines what sells and what doesn’t, but things have changed—dramatically. When people wanted Doberman Pinschers in the 1970s, someone bred the Doberman defined by a written Breed Standard. When people want a doodle these days, somebody somewhere takes a merle this to a mini that, gives the resultant puppies a clever moniker, takes their photos and posts them on the World Wide Web with a sweetheart story, and suggests a retail price (based on coat color and pattern!) that would have allowed grandad to buy a brand-new Ford Country Sedan… with money left over to grab a case of Ken-L-Ration dog food and a box of Milk-Bone dog biscuits on the way home from the dealership.
All of this is not to say that middle-class Americans have given up on purebred dogs. They haven’t, but their preferences have expanded to include dogs that previously didn’t exist as viable options. Sure, there have always been “cockapoos” available, but their promotion required active participation from consumers who had a newspaper subscription and a publicly listed phone number, not a spontaneous response from someone whose late-night scrolling would make Pavlov proud.
For purebred dogs to thrive in America once again, preservation breeders will need to acknowledge how much public perception has changed and create a demand that speaks to a shrinking middle class in search of proven alternatives to the heavily promoted “designer” and “rescue” options.
