Dogs of War: What's so wrong with being a poodle?
So is Tony Blair a poodle, or a Churchillian bulldog? Neither, according to
the pet owners of Britain, who are barking mad about the aspersions being
cast on their favourite breeds. Michael McCarthy reports from the front
line of a first-class dog fight
13 February 2003
It has provoked strong feelings, the Tony Blair-George Bush relationship.
It has led to bitterly opposed positions. It has produced sharp and
wounding words. So amidst all the argument, amidst the increasingly
passionate name-calling how do you react when you hear Mr Blair described
as the American President's poodle?
Catherine Lawton-Anderson, for one, bristles with indignation. "I take
great exception to that," she says. "They are implying that a poodle is a
wimp. It's not a wimp. My God, it's not a wimp. I'll tell you, a poodle
will stand its ground. Our Giggsy has taken on a Rottweiler, an akita and a
pointer. And she's not aggressive the other dogs approached her first.
People who say Tony Blair is George Bush's poodle are implying that he's
George Bush's lapdog. I agree with that, actually I think Blair's lost
the plot but in no way is a poodle a lapdog. You should never say that."
Mrs Lawton-Anderson's particular angle on the current status of the special
relationship comes about because she is a considerable figure in the poodle
world. A leading owner and a former poodle-breeder, she is the honorary
secretary of the UK Poodle Council. (Aim: "To enable all poodle clubs of
England, Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales to speak with a united
voice.") She has two miniature poodles, Giggsy and Sassy, and what she has
to say about her favourite breed of dog throws an interesting light on the
image Blair's opponents seem to be so fond of.
We might characterise this image as one of fawning submission, of obedience
at once deferential and prettified. And it is, Mrs Lawton-Anderson insists,
quite false. "When the Consumer Association did a major survey of dogs a
few years ago, the Border collie came out tops for intelligence, but the
poodle was second," she says. "They are highly intelligent animals. To say
that they are fawning with no will of their own my God, that is just
totally wrong."
Many poodle owners agree. Take the art historian and critic Andrew
Graham-Dixon, the owner of poodle bitch Biba (so called because "she's
black, like that Sixties shop with all those sexy birds with kohl around
their eyes"). He says: "They're not fawning. I don't know where that came
from. I wish she was fawning and obsequious, that's the problem."
"Poodle" is, he believes, quite inappropriate as an insulting epithet.
"I've been thinking. If it's a compliment to Tony Blair, then that's all
right. In fact, if I want to compliment my poodle, I may call her Blair.
Not that she's capable of the level of cunning and secrecy that he is."
How, then, did the myth of the poodle arise? How has this noble beast
become, doubtless to Mr Blair's discomfort, synonymous with subservience?
There is certainly nothing in the breed's origin to support its alleged
status as a submissive parlour decoration or a piece of leash candy. The
dogs were first bred in Germany as hunting dogs, specifically water
retrievers designed to swim after shot ducks. (The name in German, Pudel,
is thought to derive from the verb pudeln, to paddle. The breed's French
name caniche has its roots in canard, or duck.)
The breed's most distinctive characteristic the elaborate clipping of its
coat has an entirely utilitarian origin: it was to enable it to swim
better on retrieval missions. The poodle's curly coat is one of the densest
of any dog and if allowed to grow it will form heavy, ropelike cords, so
the practice began of shaving the dog's body behind the head to ease its
passage through the water. This gave it a lion-like appearance, and it is
now known as the lion's-mane trim.
But so striking was this look that, for some fanciers, the appearance of
the trim rather than the reason for it gradually became the whole point,
and it grew more and more fantastic. The Oxford English Dictionary defines
"poodle" as a dog "with long curling hair, which is often clipped or shaved
in a fantastic manner".
It has to be said that some poodle trims do for dogs what rococo did for
church architecture. In the extremities of elaboration they have variegated
patterns, and sometimes even the owner's name, cut into the coat. A
standard look for dog shows is to have several "poms", or balls of hair,
left standing out sharply on shaved limbs, with a final one on the end of
the docked tail.
"Yes, it's the haircut that does it," Graham-Dixon says. "It becomes a form
of dog topiary, as if it's something people can shape and fashion at will.
There's less of it around now all this being cut into stupid shapes
although breeders still do it. I don't. My poodle looks like a Rasta half
the time. The rest she looks like a greyhound."
It probably does not help the poodle's image that the dogs have been bred
downwards in size. The standard poodle is about 15 inches high at the
shoulder, but then we have the miniature poodle (12 or 13in) and the toy
poodle, at 10in or even less.
Combine the small size with the fantastic trim, and we have pretty much
lost sight of the hard-working, hunky hunting dog of the German marshes.
What we're left with is the quintessence of the artificially dainty,
something bobbing along the street, something we see in the mind's eye
trotting beside a mink coat and high heels.
"There's something about their image that's a bit 1950s," sighs Sarah
Wright, the editor of Your Dog magazine. "And there's no doubt about it;
the poodle's heart may be splendid, and its lineage noble, but its prissy
image is too strong to shake."
What hope, then, can we offer Mr Blair? Well, he could choose to counter
accusations of poodlery by modelling himself on another of man's best
friends. And, yes, you've guessed it.
The bulldog!
What could be more appropriate for a would-be war leader than the image of
the pugnacious pooch that the world associates with Churchill? Stubborn and
stalwart, rugged and robust, unyielding, indomitable, invincible! Bulldog
Blair! Sounds a whole lot better than "Bush's poodle", does it not? Never
mind changing horses in mid-stream change dogs! Get on the case, Alastair
Campbell!
For the bulldog certainly exhibits all those attributes and lives up to its
reputation, says one man who should know Chris Carberry. Mr Carberry is
the secretary of the Bulldog Club (Inc), founded in 1875 and the oldest
breed club in the world. "They are indomitable," he says. "If they're ill
and you take them to the vet, it's quite difficult to get a diagnosis, as
they tend not to show any signs of pain. They do feel pain, but they're
quite stoical in that regard."
As their name suggests, bulldogs were bred for the barbaric bull-baiting
contests popular for hundreds of years in England until they were outlawed
in 1835. The point of the breed's flattened face was to enable them to
breathe while their jaws were clamped on the bull's nose. Mr Carberry has a
fund of stories of just what bulldogs can get up to when they are upset
with each other, but as the owner of six bulldog bitches and a stud dog
named RT (or, in full, Merriveen Rough'n'Tough at Berrybrook), he insists
that they are not vicious as pets; rather, they have hearts of gold.
"They're lovely dogs," he says. "Very gentle."
However, all is not perfect with the bulldog image. There are significant
health problems with the breed, says the RSPCA's chief vet, Chris Laurence.
"Their noses are so short that they find it very difficult to breathe, and
the skin in front of their noses tends to rub on to their eyeballs," he
says. "It's like having an eyelash in your eye. They get leg problems
they tend to have malformed elbow joints and because they have a
relatively large head and a relatively small pelvis, they have a lot of
trouble producing offspring. A lot of the pups have to be born by Caesarean."
Yet that is not the reason why, ultimately, the bulldog image and Mr Blair
may be unable to come together. The reason lies in something ineffable in
the character of the man and the character of the dog, according to Mr
Carberry.
"Mr Blair," he says, "just isn't a bulldog."
Who is?
More bad news for the beleaguered premier.
"Gordon Brown," the expert pronounces. "He's dour. And tough. And stocky."
Andrew Graham-Dixon, meanwhile, is still thinking about poodles. "My poodle
barks at joggers," he says. "I had to have her fitted with one of those
collar squirters. It's on remote control and it sends this big cold jet
into your neck, whoosh! It's great. She doesn't associate it with me. She
thinks it comes from the god of dogs. Anubis. And every time she goes near
a jogger now, this bloody thing happens. She goes, 'Whaa-haaay! What did
that jogger do to me? He didn't even seem to touch me!'"
Come to think of it, maybe that's it. Maybe President Bush has got Mr Blair
fitted with one of these collar squirters. Blair says something
independent, and Bush goes, whoosh! And the thing gets Blair in the neck.
Maybe that's the real poodle connection?
"I dunno," he says, lost in the enigma of poodle and Prime Minister.
"Do you think that Tony Blair barks at joggers?"
Take our quiz: Are you a poodle or a bulldog?
Your favourite item of clothing is:
a) my rather snazzy plum acrylic zip-fronted fleece top;
b) my sheer black cotton see-through vest;
c) my stone-washed jeans;
d) my braces, if it's any of your business.
If money were no object, you would like to spend the summer:
a) hanging out on a dude ranch in Arizona or something really fun like that;
b) being pampered on a cruise to the Seychelles;
c) hacking through the jungles of Peru in search of the floating brothel of
Lake Titicaca;
d) waging war.
It's lunchtime. You're starving. What you really crave is:
a) a chicken sandwich from Pret a Manger with a can of Coke;
b) a bean-sprout-and-cranberry wrap with a bottle of Evian;
c) a cheeseburger with a vanilla milkshake;
d) a 12oz rare steak from Smiths of Smithfield. Hand-cut chips. Chβteau
Petrus '82.
You are set upon by muggers in a dark alley. Do you say:
a) "Look, guys, there's no need for this, like, violence, OK? Let's chill,
y'know?;
b) "Lay one finger on me and I'll scream the place down";
c) "You should know I'm a fully trained hai kwon dong exponent (brown belt)";
d) "I'll stick that knife where the sun don't shine."
A stranger is walking along the narrow pavement towards you. When he gets
right up beside you, what will you do?
a) Give him a frank, appraising look, to establish that you are a decent
fellow, a trustworthy ally and a formidable opponent;
b) Dart him a little sideways glance of your own devising. He'll understand;
c) Clench your fists and adopt a defensive posture;
d) Stop dead, so the bastard has to walk round you.
Answers:
Mostly a): You are a poodle of the utmost poodlosity. You are enthusiastic,
generous-spirited, you will paddle and splash with the best of them. A born
compromiser, you spend your life trying to make everyone your friend.
Mostly b): You are exquisitely trimmed and clipped, but a tad precious and
sly rather more a chihuahua than a poodle, in fact. Though seemingly as
cute as a cupcake, you're capable of giving the unwary a nasty nip.
Mostly c): You think you're a bulldog. You'd love to be considered a
bulldog four-square, bloody-minded, tough as nails. Unfortunately you're
not a bulldog. Attitude-striking, macho and fake, you are a Yorkshire
terrier with delusions of grandeur.
Mostly d): Congratulations. You are a bulldog to the last grunty, squinty,
intransigent, obstinate, foolishly courageous inch. You combine the
physical beauty of Samuel Johnson with the easy charm of Ann Widdecombe.
You take no crap and are always right. But is this a good thing? Even
Churchill got sick of being Churchill all the time.
15 February 2003 13:04
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http://news.independent.co.uk/uk/politics/story.jsp?story=377798
