A battle is being waged regarding the registration of backcrossed Dalmatians. It is an old battle, but new technology and research have made it front page again and the opinions on both sides of the issue are as strongly held as ever and the arguments even more complex.
Successful breeders know that they must be practical and patient in estimating the time and number of litters it will take to solve a problem or produce a special dog. Thus, when a planned breeding occurs there is usually the expectation for something good.
Hence this revisit to the themes and variations of how we interact with each other and how we relate to the sport and to the dogs themselves. This subject is, of course, multidimensional and no attempt is made herein at comprehensively examining behavioral patterns or exhaustively exploring motives.
As could well have been expected (and was), a number of communications, mainly by e-mail, have been received in response to the article published in last month’s issue of The Canine Chronicle concerning the Grand Championship program and how it has been variously received by the Fancy and by judges in particular.
Anyway you spell “ridiculous” it conveys the same message. That had been the response that many breeders, handlers, judges, and local kennel club members have expressed concerning the recently imposed Judges Maintenance/Breed Fee.
Some business! But is it a business? Or a profession? Or is it a hobby? For many of us it is the latter although there are those who, by virtue of money earned and time spent, may consider it a business. Certainly it is business for AKC while the professional handler could easily call it a profession. Hobby breeders that consider their activity a business are generally hard pressed, however, to eak out a living, rarely making it out of the red. Then we have our judges, of which I am one. Exactly how are we defined?
Some years ago I served on a committee working to update our constitution and by-laws. The committee chair was a successful trial attorney who I simultaneously loved, respected and found tiresomely verbose. It was one of those jobs one worries will never end…especially bothersome considering the inordinate amount of time being devoted to it. But I walked away grateful for a single great line. “This club,” our chairman tersely remarked, “eats its own.” I have recently come to know exactly what he meant.
