Woof! A Gay Man's Guide to Dogs

May 21st, 2007: LOOK FOR THE GUCCI LABEL
What’s in a name? Gay men are into labels. Many gay men are actually ON labels, so that’s not news at all! When you buy a Ferragamo necktie or a pair of Gucci loafers (Italian labels are the best), you actually think that people recognize the difference. Flashy queens will “inadvertently” mention that this is a $200 tie so please be careful where you squeeze your lime wedge. There’s pride in a name, and when you pay more you invest in the quality and type.

That same high-minded attitude is what can save the world of purebred dogs, a realm that is threatened by profiteering, ignorance and misguided pro-animal goodwill. Once again it’s up to gay men to be the heroes! Wonder Twin Powers Activate!
In the past week I’ve encountered some very sweet, extremely generic dogs, whose owners paid good money to acquire them.After twenty years in purebred dogs, it is not a compliment when I ask you what breed of dog that is you’re walking! I was shopping in my favorite pet chain (which is not carrying Woof! so it shall remain nameless!) and I encountered a young couple with a whitish Shiba-looking dog. The dog was a nice dog, a nicely trained companion, but I sincerely couldn’t tell whether the dog was a Shiba, a crossbreed, or a Jindo (that’s a larger breed from Korea). I asked the owner, “Is that a Shiba or a Jindo?” (Fearing that I sounded obnoxious, I was relieved when the owner assured me it was a Shiba. Whew! At least he didn’t say a Siberian Husky!) Even though it was one of the ugliest Shibas I’ve ever seen, I’m happy that the dog has a nice home, but, honey, real Shibas don’t come in “whitish.” The dog lacked every element of type that defines the breed: he had a white coat, round eyes, big ears, no pigment and no expression. Did I say he was too tall and that my Shiba Azuki could walk under him? What’s the point of choosing and owning a particular breed of dog if the dog can’t be recognized. You might as well buy off the rack!

On an advertisement in the train station this week I saw a great ad for Daffy’s. It says, “Almost Prada for next to nada.” Daffy’s don’t sell purebred dogs, and that’s a shame. There’s no “Almost Bichon” or “Nearly Dachshund” in purebred dogs!

Purebred fanciers run the risk, as I have here, of sounding condescending and obnoxious. Promoting a superior race never goes over well, in dogs or humans. But folks, this isn’t Nazi thinking: most purebred dogs have been created by us clever humans and it’s up to us to keep them looking the way they’re supposed to. When the whole world goes crazy, you’re not going to be able to tell an authentic Louis Vuitton handbag from a plastic Wilson sport bag! Then you’ll know the end is near. When people breed one ugly dog to an uglier-still dogs you usually get butt-uglier dogs. (I know what you’re thinking, you once dated a gorgeous tall blonde guy whose parents looked like Shrek. It happens, but I for one would put my money on Brad Pitt’s son rather than Homer Simpson’s. Back to dogs…

So how can we gays save the world? Be as snobbish in your selection of a purebred canine companion as you are in your selection of shoes, luggage and bedfellows. If you’ve decided that you want a West Highland White Terrier, then you should find a breeder who can guarantee you that you’re getting a dog that is 100% good Westie. A typey little dog who looks and acts like a Westie.

I recently met a lovely little dog at a family gathering, and I knew that this cousin (whom I never see except once or twice year) was going to ask me what I thought of her dog. (Once you’ve written a dog book or ten, people want to ask you questions—mainly so they can contradict you or quote someone else. Usually someone with a TV show. “That’s not what Cesar said!”) Anyway, I scurried out to the kitchen to ask my sister what kind of dog does cousin Meadow thinks she has. “A Miniature Schnauzer,” my sister said dryly while rolling her eyes. (If she weren’t a straight woman with kids, she’d be a very funny gay man!) “Really!” was my horrified reply. I won’t describe this cute-as-a-butt dog to you, but I can assure you it was a pure Schnoodle if there ever was one. (Actually the dog was kind of growly and not good with kids, but that comes with careless breeding…of dogs and children!) Fortunately the dog was wearing a designer sweater and some nice bling, which distracted from his temperament issues and his complete lack of table manners.

Bottom line: don’t be afraid of breeders, spend grandly for your puppy and get a purebred dog that I’ll recognize that next time I bump into you at Chelsea dog park or in the Castro.