Move Over, Tin Man: The importance of breeding with heart

I didn’t make it to the World Dog Show in Bologna last month. So, as I often do, I called a good friend in Italy to discuss the various winners and results.

While he doesn’t breed Molossers, my friend admires them deeply. (In fact, the first time we ever met in person was at the big AKC show in Orlando, Florida, where he was marveling over a lovely mastina.) But when I pressed him for details on any of the breeds he had watched, drooly or otherwise, he had only this forlorn response:

“No one breeds with heart anymore.”

He continued: “People have lost the fascino della razza” — the charm of the breed. “What’s missing is conoscenza e cuore” — knowledge and heart.

While there were exceptions to the rule in every breed we discussed, my friend’s lamentations hit home with me. With this Modern Molosser archive, I spent a lot of effort focusing on the former quality — knowledge. Maybe now it’s time to say a little bit about heart.

“To know them is to love them,” the cliché goes. But do most fanciers today really love their breeds, in the best sense of the word? Have they truly given their hearts to their breeds? Do they love them because of what they are, rather than what they would like them to be?

Love, after all, is a very complicated emotion. And it can be abused: Think about the stereotypical love interests who, after only a few months of dating, begins to try and change the object of their affections. It starts off small and seemingly insignificant at first: “Let’s do this instead” … “You’re not wearing that, are you?” … “But your friends are so irritating.” And then before you know it, there you are, gas-lit and isolated, unrecognizable to your friends, family — and even yourself.

How are some modern breeders are gas-lighting their breeds? You need only look at Facebook to see some of the Dr. Orna-worthy manipulations that have taken root:

In Neapolitan Mastiffs, the melted-ice-cream-cone idiom is in full force, accompanied by some dogs who are so conformationally challenged their every step forces a wince of commiseration.

In Mastiffs, the Great Dane influence has gone amok, accompanied by some heads that would be more at home on a Mastino or a Bullmastiff.

In Bullmastiffs, which are supposed to be nearly square, the profiles are starting to lengthen to a point that they are becoming mastiffy. And at the same time, there is a profound loss of bone.

In Cane Corsos — my punching bag of choice for the sheer disregard so many of its breeders have for the standard — take your pick: Sloppy, round-boned Neo wanna-bes; atypical heads cover the gamut from Presas (hypotypical) to Boxers (hypertypical), and everything in between; out-of-standard colors that I routinely excuse from the ring, from straw (thank you, Maremma) to urajiro patterning so strong I could squint and see a Ca de Bou.

What’s my point here? When you fall in love, it’s a package deal. You can’t pick and choose the qualities you want, keeping some and disregarding others. You accept everything about your beloved, the good with the bad.

And relationships require work. You don’t just put a ring on it and then check out. No, in fact, the hard part has just begun. Once the infatuation is over, you need to expend genuine effort to make sure you are progressing in a positive and healthy direction. Because if you’re not constantly checking in to make sure you’re on the same page — of the breed standard, that is — differences can add up exponentially, and before you know it, you have drifted irreparably apart.

Again, there’s no room in a real love affair for “I don’t like” when the answer is “Just because.” You don’t like the proportions outlined in a standard? Or the acceptable colors, height ranges, head planes, bites and on and on? Then either learn to accept them — no, embrace them — or swipe left and move on.