That L Word: Let's Talk About Loins

I hate to start a Sunday morning with a four-letter word, but here goes:

LOIN.

These days, breeders and fanciers seem to have lost the plot regarding this fundamental component of conformation, across many breeds and groups. Maybe this article can help put things in perspective. At the very least, I’ll feel better for having taken to the pulpit.

Defining Moment

First, let’s define what we’re talking about.

The loin is …

• the part of the dog that starts at the end of the ribcage and ends at the pelvic girdle

• the part of the dog associated with the lumbar vertebrae of the spine

• the part of the dog above the “tuck-up” and beneath the spine

• the part of the dog in front of where the rear leg meets the body

(If you ever find yourself scratching your head over a canine term you’ve read in a standard or heard in a discussion, search for it in the American Kennel Club’s glossary of terms.  Even better, invest in a copy of “Spira”  — shorthand for “Canine Terminology,” the must-have dictionary by Australian veterinarian Harold R. Spira.)

What does the loin do, exactly? It is the conduit between the front and rear assemblies, transmitting rear drive to the forequarters. Some experts have compared it to the keystone of a stone arch — the important central component that keeps everything hanging together.

Why does a correct, compact, strong loin matter? At the trot, a long-loined dog tires far more quickly. Overly long or weak loins also impede agility, preventing the dog from rapid changes of direction. Which in a Molosser, whose job includes neutralize oncoming threats, is pretty important.

The Long and Short of It

The rule of thumb in dogs has generally been that the loin should be the width of a man’s hand. On Molosser breeds, arguably we’re talking Hulk-grade. But I’m no petite flower, and I can’t tell you how many loins I have judged in which I can place my hand on that body part, extended my equally generously proportioned thumb perpendicularly so that it adds to the width of my hand, and STILL have loin extending beyond that!

No Molosser should have a long, lax loin. This Neapolitan Mastiff excels in this area: Look at how strong, muscular and short his loin is. I've highlighted it below, but I really didn't need to: You can see how tight and muscular his loin is compared to the slacker flank below it

Recently, I judged a Molosser breed in which I gave a young class dog Best of Breed over a champion of comparable quality. During a break in judging, the handler of the latter came over to ask what the deciding factor had been.

The American Kennel Club advises its judges not talk to exhibitors about their decisions, presumably because things can go south pretty fast. But if someone politely asks me for my rationale, and is looking to understand rather than argue, then I am inclined to answer, for two reasons: 1.) I should be able to articulate why I did what I did, and 2.) that exhibitor may have a perspective or information that could deepen my understanding of the breed, and possibly even prompt me to reconsider my priorities. Nobody, including judges, learns in a vacuum.

In this case, I told the exhibitor that my deciding factor was loin: Both dogs had acceptable heads, both had correct bone and substance, both were typical examples of the breed. But the non-champion dog had a shorter, more athletic loin.

The handler considered this for a moment. “But that’s what they all look like,” she said.

“Yes, exactly, but they’re not supposed to be that long,” I responded. “So when I see a dog that is very strong where the breed is weak — in this case, in loin length — I am inclined to reward it, all other things being equal.”

What that exhibitor shared with me is very important: When all we see are dogs with an incorrect trait, such as a long loin, we think that the incorrect is correct. And when we see a correctly loined dog, it’s the odd man out.

Positioning a dog at an angle attempts to visually reduce length of loin. Smart dog people, however, are not fooled.

One objection I’ve heard from Molosser fanciers about the desirability of a short loin is that they don’t want their dogs to be too short bodied, which can be a problem in Neapolitan Mastiffs and Cane Corsos, among others. But that’s a red herring: Length of body should never come from length of loin: It should come from length of ribcage. When the ribcage is too short, your dog loses valuable heart and lung room, which in turn compromises his endurance.

In other words, no dog ever lost appreciable length of body from a short loin. It lost it from having too short a ribcage.

Look at this spectacularly mature Spanish Mastiff. Again, the highlight is below, though this loin too is quite obvious. Does she look short bodied to you?

Exceptions That Prove the Rule

Dogo Argentinos and Cane Corsos are two Molosser breeds in which long loins really impede function: Being trotting Molossers that are expected to traverse long distances at a reliable pace, they suffer most from the energy loss created by a long loin.

But I’ve noted an interesting phenomenon in Corsos: There are a number of dogs that have loins that are longer than I think is correct, but they do not sag or dip. In other words, their loins are longer than I’d like, but they are stronger than I’d expect.

The reason for this is usually their breadth of body: Because these dogs are typically also quite substantial, their loins are almost as wide as they are long and deep.

So we’re good, right?

Well, while I prefer a longer but stronger loin over a longer but weaker one, here are two reasons why a shorter loin still holds the trump card:

First, those elongated but straight loins almost always come with ribcages that, while admirably long themselves, are also somewhat flattened. In other words, they lack the spacious, almost egg-shaped ribcage that’s required of a trotter. The ribcages lack depth, which is equally as important as length for good endurance.

Above is a Corso with a relatively long loin, though he holds his topline well. Compare him to the Corso on which the first standard was based, Basir (below). The difference not only in loin length but also shape and depth of ribcage is obvious.

Also, the longer the loin, the less flexible it is.

Years ago, I co-founded a club that ran lure-coursing trials for Sighthounds — the grown-up version of FastCAT. But instead of running in straight lines, our dogs ran a closed circuit on pulleys so that the lure — a fast-moving white plastic bag that engaged the dogs’ prey instinct — would zip along and change direction often.

You almost never saw Greyhound people enter their dogs. And when they did, they grilled the lure operator like a cheese sandwich. Because they knew if he didn’t get the lure out far enough in front of their dogs, the dogs wouldn’t see the oncoming turns and have time to start to changing direction. Think about the curved topline of a Greyhound— that arch is all loin, heavily muscled and primed for speed. But it also compromises agility. So when Greyhounds running flat out try to change direction too abruptly, they lose control, and you can bet something — if you’re lucky a leg, if not, a neck — will get broken. (Here's an example of a green Greyhound being "buried at the pulley.")

So those long but strong loins? They don’t have the muscling of a shorter, more compact loin. They may not dip, but they aren’t going to be able to arch, contract and propel like the shorter, more correct version.

Still, I’ll gladly take them over the long, lax, flaccid hammock backs that have become ubiquitous in Molosser rings around the world.

That’s it for my Sunday-morning sermon. Now, go forth, and sin no more. Or at the very least, don’t get caught.