Pick of the Litter

By Chris Robinson

On a day not far off, a new pup will find its way into my dog pack and in the process, worm its way into my heart. That’s the way things work in my world. Once a dog is picked by me, they are instantly given resident-for-life status which means I need to be either prescient or extremely lucky when I make my pick if I’m going to wind up with a really good dog.

You’d think, with my exhaustive knowledge of virtually every ancestor in a litter’s pedigree for at least five generations, I’d have a foolproof edge when it came to making a choice. But in the words of several children with whom I frequently associate, “Nuh-uh!” It’s really just a crapshoot, a figurative roll of the dice. So, when it comes time to make that decision, you cross your fingers, clasp a four-leaf clover and nail a horseshoe with the ends up so the luck doesn’t run out over the puppy nursery door as you reach for a pedigree wrapped in a wiggling bundle of fur and say “This is the one I want.”

 Oh, when one of my “picks” turns out to be both drop-dead gorgeous and an outstanding hunting dog, I always congratulate myself on my superb skill and intuition in the puppy picking business. But, if you were to press the issue, it wouldn’t require electric shocks to sensitive body areas to extract a confession that the major component involved in picking that particular pup when it was nothing more than an endearing ball of fluff was pure dumb luck.

 One time, I employed all the latest puppy testing and evaluation techniques. My brother, at the end of one of the testing sessions into which he’d been dragooned as a participant, grumpily muttered, “Why don’t you see how up-to-date their computer skills are? You’ve done everything else!” In the end, however, none of the evaluations mattered because this was a litter where one of the pups picked me rather than vice versa. From almost the time his eyes opened, it was a done deal although I didn’t realize it at the time— I’m a tad slow sometimes. While his littermates were off playing puppy games, this little guy was trying to crawl into my lap. When he managed to overrun my perimeter and reach his objective, he’d give me a puppy smile that said “Mission accomplished.” Then he’d immediately snuggle down and go to sleep, secure in the knowledge that he was where he was supposed to be.

 My personal “picks” have produced decidedly mixed results. One dog, that I picked for all the wrong reasons—his color and the fact that he was such a bully to his littermates that I feared he would be too much for the average hunter to handle—turned out to be a multiple group winner that also earned his senior hunter title and was an outstanding hunting dog to boot. In short, he was a wonderful dog with an equally wonderful temperament.

 One of his sons was also the pick of the litter, only this time for all the right reasons. He was produced from what was arguably the best female in the breed at the time, his conformation was outstanding even as a very young pup, he was a really good natured guy and he was a driven retriever as a pup. Unfortunately, as he matured, this “driven retriever” became so “wired” he was virtually useless as a hunting dog. You couldn’t tolerate him in the duck or goose blind. He was okay as an upland dog because he was moving all the time but as a waterfowl dog, he was a bust. It was the same at a hunt test. He’d work himself up into such a lather even though he was well away from any of the action that he was a complete basket case by the time he got to run the next test. It was nearly impossible to get him to focus on anything for more than a millisecond. You could teach him something one day and he’d do it perfectly. But, by the next day, he wouldn’t have a clue what you wanted him to do. He was a beautiful dog but he was totally scatterbrained.

 The dog that became my foundation sire was a “pick.” He was a big, beautiful, mellow pup and he became a big, beautiful, mellow dog that worked hard in the field and was a group winner in the show ring. On the other hand, another of my “picks” who was also selected for all the “right” reasons, turned out to be a major disappointment because she was the most moody dog I’ve ever owned. She was absolutely stunning in the show ring but two points short of her championship, she decided she didn’t like being a show dog anymore. When she decided that she didn’t like something, a direct order from God could not have changed her mind. The same held true if she wasn’t in the “mood” to do something and when the wind was in the wrong direction or the moon in a bad phase or her personal muses were out of sync, she would pout and decline to do anything other than what she wanted to do at that particular moment.

 But, on the chance that more than blind luck might be involved in picking the next “superdog” or that my mixed bag of success had something to do with the vagaries of my particular breed, I checked with others whose dogs have achieved to outstanding success about their ability to pick out the dogs destined for greatness from a litter of pups.

 Roe Froman is a veterinarian and Clumber Spaniel breeder. She has bred, owned, trained and handled several champions that achieved advanced hunt test titles and titles in performance activities. One of her champion/Master Hunter Clumbers is, in all likelihood, the only Clumber in the country to ever score a win in a field trial. He was the one she picked out of his litter to keep. But, from a litter produced from his full sister, whose offspring and descendants have garnered numerous championships and field and performance titles, well, let Roe tell the story.

 ”I let a pup from a litter of ten go to a friend of mine even though I sort of knew she was probably the best female in the litter. Instead, I chose one that sort of tugged at my heart and seemed to be much more biddable in training. Just to give you an idea of how much of an ‘expert’ I can be when picking pups, the one I let go won BOS at the national specialty and is producing wonderful, dual-titled pups. The one I kept, while she easily finished her championship, decided she never really liked being a show dog. Turns out her forte is being beautiful on the couch.”

 Ann Witte is a long-time breeder/owner/handler of dual champion Bearded Collies. She, obviously, has had considerable success in picking budding superstars out of the litters she has bred. She also is a sheep rancher who needs dogs to help move and handle the flock. “I’ve come to the conclusion over the years that picking a pup is part ‘science,’ finding that one puppy that best fits the standard, and part ‘art,’ finding that undefined quality that ultimately makes a dog great. I made the right choice with Boone, Robin, Rowan and Vic. But, so no one thinks I’m infallible when it comes to picking pups, I also owned Mags. She had a good bloodline and showed a lot of promise so when her buyers backed out, I decided to keep her. Big mistake! She kept growing until she was much bigger than the standard, she was quite hocky and she never grew coat. But she had a beautiful head, classic Beardie expression and a gorgeous ground-covering side-gait. Enough for me to give her a try on sheep thinking she’d at least be useful as a herding dog both in the arena and on the farm. Everything went quite smoothly until a ewe hit her in the side. Rather than fight back, she quit. Not what I wanted at all!”

 Regina Allen DVM breeds Toy Manchester Terriers. Her current dogs all have a string of titles in conformation, agility, obedience and rally with one also owning a MACH and two in the breed club’s hall of fame. So, she has done something right when it came to picking pups that went on to stardom. Still, she said, her record’s not perfect as she demonstrated with her last litter. “There were only two pups, both male, in the litter. I had great homes for both but one was definitely a show/performance home. The one with the green collar was gorgeous stacked at six and eight weeks old. I simply placed him on the table and all the pieces fell into place except for a slightly gay tail. The red collar puppy required more effort to stack as his shoulders were a bit straight and weren’t balanced with his rear. But, red naturally trotted and looked quite nice doing so whereas green just bounced and bounded everywhere. However, I’m a stickler for nice shoulders and balance so green was the pick and went to the show/performance home. I considered red a ‘pet’ because of his shoulders but his new owner wanted to try showing him because he trotted so nicely so I gave her full registration so she could. Well, the red ‘pet’ puppy trotted nicely around the show ring and had both of his majors and many of his minor points by nine months old. And, what about the green boy? He only had one point by the same age.”

 Stacey Poler is a Bloodhound person who earned titles in obedience, rally and mantrailing with her first “pick.” “It didn’t matter with this dog, wherever she was, in the conformation ring, in obedience, rally or in the field doing mantrailing, she excelled in everything. I had hoped she would be a foundation for me in the breed and that is exactly what happened. My next ‘pick’ was a male that from a conformation standpoint was lovely, balanced and typey. While I was just a bit concerned about his temperament there wasn’t anything there that I thought I couldn’t handle. At that stage of my life with Bloodhounds, I still thought I could train any dog to be exactly what I wanted them to be. This guy showed me that wasn’t the case. He absolutely pushed me to the limit as a trainer and with dedicated training, he is manageable but I would not ever give him 100 percent of my trust. So, I wound up neutering the dog I thought would be my foundation male and have kept him as a pet.”

 So there you have it. Even experienced puppy-pickers get a dud or at least a dog that did not quite live up to their expectations now and then. There are some puppy evaluation programs that are useful but quite honestly, none of them are foolproof. In the end, picking a pup that ultimately turns out to be a great dog is frequently a matter of figuratively picking up those two little cubes with the pips and giving them a roll, praying that when they stop it’s a seven and not snake eyes.

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Posted by admin on May 14 2012. Filed under Current Articles. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. Both comments and pings are currently closed.