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Philippe, a Giant Schnauzer is seen with owner, Kevin Cullen from St Leonards-on-Sea, England, after being announced as Best in Show winner at this year’s Crufts at the National Exhibition Center, Birmingham, England, on March 9, 2008. Crufts is the world’s largest dog show. �

� photos:�agencies

Britain’s Kennel Club is facing the greatest crisis in its history. Critics say its strict

breeding guidelines for pedigree dogs have resulted in animals that are unhealthy mutants

By�StEPhEN�MoSSThe Guardian, London

‘Mutants’ row hits Crufts

dog show

“We are the tiniest production company on the planet — there are more dogs here

than staff,” Jemima Harrison tells me when I am arranging a visit to her farmhouse, in Wiltshire in the west of England. She isn’t exaggerating. There are two and a half staff — Harrison herself, who writes, directs and produces films; partner Jon Lane, co-producer and cameraman; and part-time researcher Rachael Turner. And there are at least seven dogs: five full-timers, one of which attempts to eat my tape recorder, and two in transit. Harrison, in between making documentaries, runs a dog rescue center.

While her company, Passionate Productions, is small, it is also noisy. It may, indeed, be the Jack Russell of the film world — limited in stature but capable of a loud yelp and fearsome nip. As the Kennel Club, bastion of the dog world, organizer of Crufts and for 135 years ruler of dogdom, is finding out.

In August, BBC1 broadcast Harrison’s disturbing film Pedigree Dogs Exposed, which argued that highly selective breeding was damaging the health of many pedigree dogs and undermining their genetic diversity. Several organizations, including the RSPCA, the PDSA and leading charity the Dogs Trust, have responded by pulling out of Crufts. Sponsor Pedigree has also jumped ship, but claims this was a commercial decision rather than a moral statement. And, potentially most serious of all, the BBC is reviewing whether it should continue to broadcast the show — next year’s Crufts takes place at the National Exhibition Center in Birmingham, England, in March. Dogdom is in uproar. So-called whistleblowers who helped Harrison with her film have been frozen out and allegedly subjected to hate campaigns by traditionalists.

The Kennel Club has taken Harrison to the broadcasting regulator Ofcom, complaining that the documentary was unfair (they were especially angry to be likened to Nazis in their alleged commitment to a doggy version of eugenics), but she is unrepentant. “I got a very emotional e-mail from a senior figure at the Kennel Club after the program,” she says. “They were incredibly upset. They thought it was a travesty, but obviously the Kennel Club were never going to be happy with the program. The Kennel Club has remained largely unchallenged for 135 years and it needed doing. That sort of pomposity and arrogance needed puncturing. I don’t really care how many people I’ve upset if it gets a better deal for the dogs.”

physical deformities

Harrison’s argument is that the breed standards overseen by the Kennel Club have caused an exaggeration of certain characteristics that has taken some breeds further and further away from the originals, causing physical deformities that are harmful to the dogs. There is also a separate, but related, issue concerning the decline in genetic diversity caused by the mating of dogs which are closely related and the use of “super-sires,” champion dogs which are deemed highly desirable in a pedigree and, through artificial insemination, can now produce many litters. Some critics accuse breeders of “playing God” with dogs. Amazingly, all these animals — from the chihuahua to the great dane — are descended from wolves. Harrison says the “plasticity” of the dog — its malleability in the hands of breeders — has been its greatest enemy.

Pedigree Dogs Exposed includes painful footage of a cavalier King Charles spaniel writhing in agony because its skull has allegedly, over time and by selective breeding, been modified in such a way that it is now too small for its brain. The story is repeated across many breeds — bull terriers and dachshunds whose legs are too short, German shepherd dogs with collapsing back ends (“half dog, half frog,” according to those demanding reform), pugs with squashed faces that can barely breathe, basset hounds whose exaggerated skin folds are liable to become infected, bulldogs which have departed so much from the 17th-century original that they

find it hard to mate without human assistance or give birth naturally, since the puppy’s head is often too large to pass through the birth canal.

Harrison compares photographs of breeds a century ago with those today, and the changes in conformation are startling. Beauty is the watchword of the showing world, according to staunch critics such as the RSPCA’s chief veterinary adviser, Mark Evans, who has labeled dog shows a “parade of mutants.” Aesthetics have been placed before health and functionality. Harrison and her supporters reckon this is dogdom’s “Miss World moment”: if the BBC pull the plug on Crufts, it will lose its large television audience and the sponsorship that goes with it, and at best end up on some obscure cable channel.

The Kennel Club is doing a good job of not looking panicked when I visit its HQ in London’s very upscale Mayfair. “Members must be dressed appropriately in the dining room,” reads a notice pinned to the reception desk. “No jeans, leggings or trainers.” A wooden board has inscribed on it the club’s patrons since its inception in 1873: the Prince of Wales from 1873 to 1901 and the five reigning monarchs since. Embarrassingly, Queen Elizabeth II is patron of both the Kennel Club and the RSPCA.

Kennel club pedigree

The Kennel Club is not used to criticism. In its library, I look at Edward Ash’s monumental two-volume Dogs: Their History and Development, published in 1927; the reference to the club in the introduction sets the tone. “In April 1873 the Kennel Club was formed, with Mr S E Shirley as chairman. He subsequently became president, holding this honor until his much-regretted demise in March 1904. In 1874 the first KC Stud Book was published. No remarks of mine are needed to suggest that the founding of the Kennel Club was the greatest step in the welfare of dogs and dog shows. With a master-hand this organization controlled without jar or unpleasant interference, to the benefit of all. Gradually the dog show emerged from perfectly impossible conditions to a controlled and satisfactory one.”

The club’s principal function is to register pedigree dogs — more than 270,000 a year. The certificate it provides for a US$17.50 fee gives puppy buyers a guarantee of the dog’s pedigree. The club also funds research into canine health issues, tries to educate the public on responsible pet ownership, runs dog shows and field trials, and lobbies parliament on behalf of dogs.

None of this good work, it complains, was discussed in Harrison’s program.

“We knew there were health problems with some breeds and were already working to address them,” says the club’s secretary, Caroline Kisko. “We started on this five years ago. That’s part of the reason we were miffed with the program. It made it look as if we weren’t aware of the issues and that we weren’t doing anything, as if we had our heads in the sand.” She also dismisses the argument that beauty rules supreme in the show ring. “Health has to be the number one criterion for judging dogs,” she insists, “temperament the number two, and everything else comes afterwards.”

The Kennel Club has put 12 breeds on what it calls its “worry list.” These are breeds with recurring health problems that may be linked to the breed standard — a written description of the ideal dog that is holy writ for breeders. It has already revised the standard for the Pekingese to encourage a less flat face. The gradual elimination of the Pekingese’s muzzle — in line with a standard that specified “profile flat with nose well set between eyes” — meant that these dogs, too, were having difficulty breathing. Noses are now back in.

The breed standards, many of which date back to the Victorian era, are remarkably detailed. Take the dachshund: “Rump full, broad and strong, pliant muscles. Croup long, full, robustly muscled, only slightly sloping towards tail. Pelvis strong, set obliquely and not too short. Upper thigh set at right angles to pelvis, strong and of good length. Lower thigh short, set at right angles to upper thigh and well muscled. Legs when seen behind set well apart, straight and parallel. Hind dewclaws undesirable.” And that’s just the hindquarters. There are also detailed specifications for general appearance, characteristics (“intelligent, lively, courageous to the point of rashness”), temperament (“faithful, versatile, good-tempered”), head and skull, eyes (“almond shaped”), ears (“mobile”), mouth, neck, forequarters, body, feet, tail, gait, coat, color (“no white permissible, save for a small patch on chest which is permitted but not desirable”), and, controversially, size — between 9kg and 12kg. Controversially because there are suggestions that some owners starve their dachshunds ahead of shows to ensure that they make their fighting weight.

The degree of detail is obsessive, the search for perfection hard for the outsider to fathom. This is one of those closed worlds that may make perfect sense to its inhabitants but look bizarre to those who stray into it. So, are the people who show dogs balmy?

“I would completely dispute that dog people are in some way nutty,” insists the Kennel Club’s Kisko. “They are very enthusiastic about their dogs, but unlike someone who is very enthusiastic about sailing or golfing, these are living creatures and they need care all year round, all day round, rather than a yacht or a golf club which you can just put away until you need it next time.”

Geoffrey Davies, one of the UK’s leading experts on the Pekingese, also rejects the charge of eccentricity. Showing is a hobby like any other, he argues.

Davies is fascinating because his life has been dominated by dogs. He has owned more than 200 Pekingese in 50 years of showing, had 15 champions, owned best of breed and the toy group winner at Crufts, and judged all over the world. “I’ve been associated with the breed for 50 years,” he says, “since I was a schoolboy of 12. The Pekingese is a small dog with the heart of a lion. They’ve brought so much to my life. When I was first introduced to them, I was an introverted, shy, stuttering boy. They developed my life enormously, took me out to shows, and introduced me to people who covered every socio-economic group — from a cousin of the Queen to a man who swept the streets. All social barriers were broken down through common love of the dog.”

Davies’ enthusiasm is infectious, and it is tempting to play up the comedy of the bitchy world of showing. But Harrison warns me against being seduced. “People have dismissed it as something that’s quirky and British ...” she says. “It’s been the subject of humor from the outside world, but in fact it’s really serious for the dogs. They’re not having a good time.”

David Balding, professor of statistical genetics at Imperial College London and co-author of a recent report on inbreeding in purebred dogs, agrees. The exaggerations caused by slavish devotion to the standards is one problem, but the loss of genetic diversity is potentially even more devastating and may threaten the viability of some breeds. “Because you’re mating animals with similar genes,” says Balding, “you’re getting a big loss of genetic diversity and that has bad consequences in terms of your ability to resist disease. Breeding has gone too far. It was something that started getting organized and became systematic in the 19th century, and it didn’t do much harm for a long time. But now we have reached the point where the harm is starting to show more and more. We are now doing genetic damage to the dog.”

cautious approach

The Kennel Club argues that it is doing what it can, but says it has to move cautiously or the breed clubs — the autonomous bodies which represent each breed (there are 18 for the Pekingese alone) — will go their own way. Unlike in other European countries, the Kennel Club has no statutory powers; breeders can do what they want. “The most important thing is keeping people with us so we can influence them,” says Kisko. “Once you’ve pushed them away from you, you have no influence over them.”

Critics of the club, however, believe its hybrid status — part private members’ club (with a ceiling of 1,500 members), part charity, part commercial business dependent on registration fees from breeders — renders it incapable of implementing the root-and-branch reform now needed to return to functionality rather than cosmetic appearance in breeding, to rewrite breed standards (all of which the Kennel Club is currently reviewing), and to combat the loss of genetic diversity.

“The Kennel Club’s constitution is the main problem,” says Beverley Cuddy, editor of Dogs Today. “It has tried to make changes, but how can something that is so undemocratic vote for democracy? The snobbery and silliness have to go.” She says we should copy Sweden, where the government and kennel club work paw in paw, all dogs are registered (mongrels as well as pedigrees), health tests are mandatory, and breeders are made responsible for the health of a dog in the first three years of its life.

What happens next is hard to say. Much hinges on the BBC, which has convened an expert panel to advise it on whether the health concerns raised by Harrison’s program are being effectively addressed by the Kennel Club. A BBC spokesman says the decision on whether it will broadcast next year’s Crufts is imminent and that the corporation is “hopeful” of continuing the 42-year association. Harrison says she would be “incredibly disappointed if the BBC does not drop Crufts.”

Even if the BBC does carry on with the show, Cuddy says things will never be the same again. “I don’t think coverage in the future will be uncritical,” she says. “There will be no more rose-colored spectacles.” If the Pekingese wins the toy group by a nose, the statisticians will henceforth be there to check its length.