Size Matters: Just How Big is Big?
How big is big?
When does a breed become “giant”?
What’s the difference between “large” and “medium-large”?
Can a true Molosser be termed “medium” sized?
Good questions all, and I’m not sure that by the end of this article the subject will be any clearer than when you started reading. But at least we’ll have tried to approach the question!
Compare and Contrast
The AKC Working Group is the one in which the word “large” is used early and often. But because numbers are precise and words are subjective, “large” can mean different things in different breeds.
Below is a chart of some of the breeds in the AKC Working Group. I left out most Arctic and spitz-types, as well as the newest addition, the Danish-Swedish Farmdog because, hey, if it is required to be examined on a table, it’s not pertinent to those of us in the Molossosphere.
All the measurements refer to mature, adult males. Nothing against the bitches — in fact, we all know that’s where the real value and quality in any breed lies. But I limited the chart to males because: 1) They are the larger of the two genders; and 2) I wanted to simplify the chart for better readability.
In all dog breeds, height is measured at the withers — the highest point of a dog’s shoulders, or where the top of the shoulder blade can be felt.
As you glance through the chart below, notice that the breeds described as “large” can have a minimum height as low as 24 inches (Boerboel) and as tall as 30 inches (Mastiff). That’s a half a foot difference — quite the spread.
They Might Be Giants
Among the Working breeds, only the Great Dane is described as a giant, even though its standard says it is “one of the giant working breeds.” But good luck finding another described that way.
In fact, the Great Dane is the only AKC-recognized breed that uses the word “giant” in its standard. (Except, of course, for the Giant Schnauzer, but only in its proper name: Nowhere in the Giant Schnauzer standard is the breed described as a giant with a little “g.”)
The Tibetan Mastiff standard goes out of its way to reject that more-is-more label, saying the breed is "large but not giant" at 26 to 29 inches tall.
If we wander off into other groups, even the Irish Wolfhound — which must be 32 inches tall at minimum, two inches more than the Dane — isn’t described as a giant in its standard.
Let’s go back to the Mastiff. Though it must be a minimum of 30 inches tall — exactly the same as the Great Dane — it is described only as “large.”
The difference between the two — and I’d argue it’s not a minor one — is that in the Dane, dropping below 30 inches disqualifies the dog. But not so for the Mastiff.
That says to me that pure height is a much bigger priority in the Dane than it is in the Mastiff.
The Gumby Principle
Mother Nature is pretty consistent. When we try to exceed the limits that she places on her creations, there usually has to be an adjustment made in another area.
That certainly applies to size. When we elongate something — like, for example, the length of a bone — that bone usually loses a degree of mass in order to accommodate that extended length. Think of it like pulling a piece of dough, or that rubbery Gumby toy — the more you stretch, the thinner the piece.
A Gumby reference? All right, I'm dating myself ...
If you look at breeds that are close to that 30-inch minimum cited in the Great Dane and Mastiff standards — say, within two inches — you’ll notice that many of them — like Black Russians, Giant Schnauzers, Great Pyrenees, Kuvasok, Leonbergers, Great Danes, Doberman Pinschers, Anatolian Shepherds — have decently long legs. At minimum, they are the same length as the depth of chest.
These 50/50 proportions — meaning the length of withers to elbow is equal to the distance from elbow to ground — can be a bit misleading when you factor in a high withers, as with the Doberman: An elevated withers comes from lengthening the spires of the vertebrae (“spinous processes,” if you want to get fancy). In other words, that slope from the neck to the back is created by the bony vertebrae that stick up from the spine. That adds inches that are not reflected in the depth of chest. If those breeds had withers that were at the same level as their back, their legs would indeed be a smidge longer than their depth of body.
The Dane standard says it is a 50/50 breed. But most are quite up on leg, as this photo of German Ch. Bosco vd Saalburg, one of the breed's modern founders, shows.
Not coincidentally, all the above-mentioned breeds are supposed to be athletic animals that have demanding physical jobs, whether protecting livestock, patrolling borders or rescuing snow-bound travelers. I’d argue most of them fit the description that was taught to me when I first started judging Saints: “Think horse, not cow.” And even a Clydesdale needs a decent length of leg.
Speaking of Saint Bernards, that’s a Molosser breed that should have legs that are longer than the depth of chest. All the better to trudge through the snow with, my dear.
Excuse Me, Your Dane Is Showing
That’s all very interesting, but there’s one glaring exception to this theory: And that is, our-not-giant friend the Mastiff.
It’s almost impossible for a 30-inch dog to have the correct bone and substance required of a Mastiff — which must be nothing short of massive — without some kind of modification. And indeed, it’s outlined right there in the Mastiff standard: The height of the dog should come from depth of body rather than from length of leg. If it’s the depth of ribcage that’s lengthened, the legs are not stretched, and can maintain their massive, round bone.
In other words, the proportions for the Mastiff are the opposite of most other breeds its size: Deeper chest, shorter legs.
Those familiar with Mastiff history know there was a ton of Dane blood pumped into the breed in modern times to restore some of its athleticism. (If you haven’t read my story about the Deer Run kennel, you can find it here. Today, most “large” Mastiffs achieve their height thanks to this incorrectly long length of leg: They are 50/50 — their depth of chest equals their length of leg. Not right!
I could go on and on about the conundrum of size in Mastiffs, but the truth is it has already been done, and done better than I could. If you have a lazy Sunday afternoon, settle in with Bas Bosch's treatise on whether bigger is better in the Mastiff.
Eye of the Beholder
Let’s get back to the definition of “large.”
In short — pardon the pun — there isn’t one. Instead, large appears to be in the eye of the beholder.
The Boerboel standard says it is large, even though a male can be 24 inches tall. That same height that would disqualify a male Akita — whose standard also calls it a large breed — for being too small. And that bottom-of-the-standard Boerboel male would also be a middle-of-the-standard height for a Boxer, which is considered a “medium” breed, according to its standard.
With a Boerboel, "large" doesn't just describe height.
What this tells us, I think, is that “large” isn’t just about height. Regardless of its height, I don’t think anyone would call a correctly boned Boerboel anything but large, thanks to its sheer volume.
The opposite can be true, too: Even though the top of the Doberman standard for a male is a whopping 28 inches, the AKC standard calls it a “medium” breed — as does the FCI version. Maybe that’s to avoid the temptation to add too much bone and substance, which would interfere with its agility and elegance.
Splitting the Difference
Then there’s “medium-large,” which sort of hedges its bets.
The only two Working standards that use “medium-large” are the Rottweiler and Cane Corso standards. That makes sense, as the first AKC Corso standard was drafted with the help of someone who came out of Rottweilers. In both breeds, a substantial but still athletic dog is required, so maybe by slipping the “medium” in along with the “large,” the point is made that the breeds should not be heavy and ponderous. Maybe someone should tell that to the Corso aficionados who seem to want a less-drooly version of the Neo.
Despite what many believe, the Corso should still be athletic.
If there’s any breed that deserves the “medium-large” label, I would argue it’s the Dogo Argentino. It’s the most restrictive of the Molosser breeds in terms of size: Males are to be disqualified if they are under 24 inches and if they are over 26½. That sweet spot in between — the standard says the ideal for a male is 25 to 25½ inches — reflects the fact that the Dogo can’t do its job of engaging large game if it is too big, nor can it have adequate bone and substance to hold on if it’s too small. There are plenty of Dogueros (and Dogueras!) who still use their dogs on boar, especially in the American South. Sadly, most Molossers have long since lost this connection to their original function.
It Goes Without Saying …
Several Molosser standards didn’t feel the need to include an adjective to describe their breed’s size, among them the Dogue de Bordeaux, Bullmastiff and Neapolitan Mastiff.
Maybe they already knew what I’ve come to conclude: Trying to apply any subjective descriptor to an objective measurement is only sure to confuse things.
And with that, I’ve largely concluded.