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The ABC's of a WD

Katherine Nevius, Minstrel Boxers

Obviously, as a relative newcomer to the several environments occupied by the competitive boxer breeder, I have little if any expertise in this quite complex and often frustrating endeavor designed to produce that sought after commodity called the show dog. But I've discovered some rules that I think may make a fine foundation when hoping to produce an animal with goals; an animal who won't be satisfied with life on the couch, muzzle securely fastened to the nearest soggy Booda Bone; an animal who sees the brass ring from an early age and commits himself to its pursuit, callously clambering over any and everything that may get in his way as he strives to reach the top of the show world. <G> I live with just such an animal from our recent litter even as I speak.

They were born in May 1999, the result of a fault offset breeding. Lots of people prefer to line breed. My mentor gives a serious indoctrination to potential mentees on that subject. Full of deep thought and concepts carefully expressed, she delivered the speech to me. Elegant in its simplicity, yet unerringly wise, these words on the subject drilled themselves into my cranium: "Uh uh."

Being one to do what she's told when she knows next to nothing about the subject at hand, I eschewed selecting a close relative for my champion bitch's second effort in the whelping box. I had a few things on my list. They were, in no particular order:
Great temperament
Great temperament
Great temperament

Rule number one: Stack those particular odds in your favor. Seriously, I already had a fair idea that my girl could produce some fairly attractive kids, but I wanted the new ones to have a particular predilection for male judges in hats who grab the flews and assault the rump, so I looked near and far for the perfect dog to supply that mysterious and not often enough considered gene.

The future object of Hedy's affections had been specialed out of Texas, and was presumably residing in Georgia at the time I needed his assistance. Making some calls and fearing a twelve to twenty hour drive might be in the offing in whichever direction I was forced to head from Virginia, I found him fifteen minutes away.

That's the second rule: Make sure you live somewhere where a famous producer is likely to end up spending his productive reproductive retirement. :-)

Next big, enormous, really important rule of the game: Under no condition should you sell the ugliest one as a pet. He will be your sure winner. It's happened to me twice now, once in each litter. That's sufficient anecdotal evidence in my book. I'm sold.

A corollary rule is to make friends with people who know what they're looking at. When you show them the puppy and confide your less than positive appraisal, if they exchange furtive glances that seem to ask whether there's mental illness in your family, reevaluate. Keep the pup.

And once you've decided to hang on to the one whose parentage you question, you then have to "grow it up." That means feeding it for a year and becoming attached to its quirks and charms - the way its right back foot's compelled to end up three inches in front of wherever you place it; the discovery that, although you've always claimed that boxers lack central nervous systems, there does appear to be a single nerve in evidence, and it's connected to each and every toenail; the fact that, if you bend over to pick something up from the floor, nine times out of ten you'll get a nose up your butt; the sweet scent of boxer breath when a head, weary with the day's activities, suddenly appears on your shoulder at nap time.

You take it out to one or two shows only because it needs ring experience.You shudder at the realization that the legs are longer than the dog. So when the stud dog's breeder tells you that this pup is what his breeding program is all about, you get your chance to question HIS sanity. You respond with something like "Well, that's not something we have in common."

And then, about a month before his first birthday, you open your eyes and recognize that, sometime in the middle of the night, the tooth fairy came and instead of a quarter (or is it a dollar these days?) left a swan where an ugly duckling had been. And you learn a valuable lesson: Never, under any condition, trust your instincts. Those of others who care about your line will be vastly superior, no matter what. That's because, as I've recently discovered, kennel blindness can work in reverse; one gets so used to hearing the whispered criticisms of other people's animals that it's difficult not to see only the faults in one's own. A good thing to contemplate, I think, when doing what we do.

So. the Minstrel Maxim: The less you like the puppy, the more likely he'll be Best of Winners at the National. At least, that's what my personal experience suggests. :-)