Sunday 26 August 2007

Attack of the Maltipoo

Now I'm not one to speak ill of the dog. The dog is a fine figure of a mammal. It's true, I prefer a dog with a bit of a woof and a tendency to roll in cow manure to a dog who looks like Dame Barbara Cartland's left slipper, but I'm really not fussed. Dogs are grouse (so grouse, in fact, that I wonder why we say "grouse" [as in "Lamingtons are grouse"] and not "dog" [ as in "Lamingtons are dog; I think I'll eat a dozen"]).

Dogs, I like 'em. Nevertheless, it is no service to my good opinion of the dog to find that amongst the dogly multitude exists a canine subculture of maltipoos. If someone had come up to me yesterday on the street and offered me a maltipoo, I would have handed her a plastic bag, gone home, and washed my hands in lemon juice. Today I learn that the maltipoo, somewhat like the labradoodle, is the offspring of a poodle and his less woolly paramour.

Let me not to the marriage of true hounds admit impediments. If a poodle and a Maltese terrier like the look of each other, then more power to them, I say. It's the eugenicist perversions of dog breeders that trouble me (here I must, reluctantly, include the breeders of beagules), and the strangely infantilising names they bestow on pups who want nothing more than to gallop valiantly across the tundra and bring down whole herds of wildebeests with a single paw.

8 comments:

Shelley said...

Poor little things. The look in every one of their eyes was apologetic. 'Yes, I am a lapdog. I look like a fluffy slipper. I am letting my species down. Please put me out of my misery!'
You'd never catch a cat looking apologetic about looking like a fluffy slipper. They'd be all, 'See my glorious fur! Kneel before me human! Brush! Brush!'

TimT said...

Dog four appears to have a tutu on, dog six has flowers in its hair; and just about every other dog appears in a floral background. The third or fourth last dog appears to have had its fur died pink - or maybe it's been cross-bred with fairy floss?!? Clearly a case of the science being Taken Too Far!

Anonymous said...

Better a maltipoo than a shihtzipoo?

Anonymous said...

Sorry Alexis, that was me.

Alexis, Baron von Harlot said...

Hawdy haw haw, Ms Poo-ell.

Nails, 'tis true, though I once lived with a cat who was mightily embarrassed when his reputation for rough and tumble took a rough and tumble.

Tim, yes. It's not just a question of genetics, either. I hear that fairy floss has hopeless parenting skills.

Anonymous said...

The other evening in Harajuku (Tokyo) I saw a beagle cross sausage dog and then, while I was still recovering from the shock, another one walked past. In a window across the road there was a giant, white, plastic squirrel. I thought of you!

Alexis, Baron von Harlot said...

Because I too am a giant white plastic squirrel? What a carnival of beasties. Thanks for letting me know.

Marie said...

A related and somewhat amusing anecdote:

Some friends of mine have a neighbour with a schnauzer who was thought for a time to have been impregnated by a friend's puggle (pug+beagle). Had the escapade actually produced puppies, those puppies would have been schnauzer+pug+beagle, or... schnuggles!

They would have been some weird looking dogs, but with a name like
schnuggle, who wouldn't want one? (;