At its October Board Meeting, the AKC Staff presented the following:

###
 Breed Standards for Docked Breeds
Based on a Board request, Staff presented its guidelines for description of the tail and dewclaws in the standard of a new breed. Staff also explained how it will  handle any future breed standard revisions to the ear and tail sections of a breed standard if those sections are being revised.

There will be the following two-step approach:

1. Discuss with the club the feasibility of revising the
description of the ear and tail to include a description of the natural ear and tail if these sections are being revised.

2. The most severe language that may be used is to severely penalize natural ears or tailwith the understanding that it is the judge’s discretion to
interpret the standard.
###

This seems pretty innocuous, and dare I say, even reasonable. So I was surprised to see a number of breeders on various e-mail lists up in arms about it. Now---I have to admit---I am not a cropper or docker. I have serious misgivings about "doing" dewclaws. My breed, saluki, is occasionally cropped in its native lands, and one of the breed's most famous imports was cropped, but fortunately, it has never been the practice in the west. But I digress; the subject here is docking, not cropping. And if you think cropping discussions can
get heavy, docking discussions can get downright nasty. 
 
So here's the situation: Many other countries now ban docking.  When dogs of traditionally docked breeds come to America, the AKC standards don't address how their tails should look. After all, most breeders have never
seen an adult entire tail. Nor do they want to. Docking the tail of an adult dog is not a humane alternative (although it is a reason given for docking in some
breeds; some dogs, notably working pointing breeds, suffer tail injuries that often require amputation of the tail as adults). But if the dog is shown, how should the tail be judged? Should the judge just look at the first inch or so? Ignore the tail altogether? Or ignore the dog
altogether?

The guidelines for new breed standards urge fanciers to describe what a natural tail ideally looks. How could that be bad? Those who are upset cite two reasons: 1) It's the AKC bending over backwards to the puppy millers
and backyard breeders who don't want to have to spend the money to dock their puppies. (Really? Do you think these breeders are overly concerned with how their dogs' tails will be judged in the ring they will never be in?), and 2) It's the AKC bending over for the Animal Rights movement who claim docking is cruel. (First tails, then ears, then dewclaws and next thing you know, hair
spray will be banned! Oh wait...)

Anyway, I may end up writing about this in an upcoming Breeder's Notebook column. What's your take?

Back in 2004, a question came up on the Dogwriters' list about how writers manage their time. Being a pro, and always willing to share my knowledge with others (and having other actual real and pressing deadlines) I of course responded. I was reminded of it as I was writing my column today. Looking over it, not much has changed, except that you should now replace the phrase "spider solitaire" with "facebook."


6:30--- wake up. Get ready for busy day.
6:31--- check e-mail
7:00--- feed dogs, eat breakfast
7:45---check e-mail
8:00--- walk dogs
9:15---return, check e-mail, answer saved e-mails
10:00---write
10:02---time for spider solitaire
10:25---check e-mail
10:30---writing seriously now
10:45---walk around house randomly
19:50---get snack
11:00---check e-mail
11:05---write
11:30---play with dogs
11:45--uh-oh, almost lunch time, better buckle down 
11:46---check e-mail 
11:50--write 
12:30--check regular mail 
12:45--back from checking mail (too early, not there), better write something
1:15--check regular mail again---it's here!
1:30---lunch!!!!!!!
2:00---write, damn it!
2:01---check e-mail
2:05---writing for real now
3:30---fix dogs'dinners
4:00---check e-mail
4:10---this is all I've written today??? Start writing for real 
4:40---chack e-mail; vow to stop checking e-mail
4:41---spider solitaire
5:00---check e-mail 
5:30 walk dogs
6:15---dinner 
6:45--practice dog agility 
7:00---check e-mail 
7:05--writing scared now 
7:24---answer e-mail describing how I waste time on a typical day (check e-mail for responses approximately once every five minutes for rest of night) 
10:45---spider solitaire, give out dog treats for tricks 
11:00--read novel, go to bed, vow tomorrow will be different. Get ready for a busy day...

Should I be upset that my most requested story is "The Goat Story," an e-mail I wrote of our morning's adventures several years ago? It stars several of the dogs in the photo above, who have since passed on. They look so sweet, don't they? Read on...

The e-mail was entitled: Free Salukis---to any home. It took place on (or next to) our acreage in rural Georgia.

###
This morning we were walking the dogs when I heard barking that seemed to be coming from the far side of the fence. That area sometimes gets a tree over it, and sure enough, a limb was on the fence and the barking was coming from the far side. Dammit. I crawled over and started calling, following the barking, and eventually came upon Jeepers. Jeepers, being my good dog, came almost right away, and I used one of the three leashes (Bad decision #1: three leashes for 13 dogs?) I had with me to hook him up and start leading him back. 
 
Problem was, I sort of thought I’d heard two different dogs barking, so I called to my mom to find out if anybody else was missing. Before she could answer, I spotted Kitty, also outside of the fence. Mystery solved. Crisis over. Probably just a bunny. Kitty was on the other side of a downed tree so I just casually called her. Bad decision #2: not taking the chance to grab a loose dog when I had it.

Suddenly, more barking---it was Wolfman barking in the distance with his “I GOT SOMETHING BIG AND I NEED BACKUP!” bark. Dammit again! I lunged for Kitty but she was already crashing off through the underbrush to help Wolf. I started toward the barking, pushing through kudzu up to my thighs with legs as heavy as dream legs, dragging Jeepers behind like an anchor under a kudzu sea. I lost one shoe. Kept going. Jeepers seemed to be doing his best to help his buddies just by slowing me down, an evil plot, so I finally decided I had to let go his leash and plow on without him while he stayed behind. Bad decision #3: A dog in hand is worth two in the bush.

I finally clawed my way through some thickets, scratched, bleeding, and one shoed, to stop and stare at Wolfman, Kitty, and Beanie (where did he come from?) attacking a giant feral goat (where did HE come from?). A GIANT feral goat! Kitty and Beanie each had one of its hamstrings, and as fast as the goat could kick them off they were coming back for more. Wolf had the goat's head and neck—mostly head, between the horns (this seemed a bad choice, but I'm no goat killing expert). The goat butted him and sent him flying through the air, over and over, and as soon as he skidded to a stop he was back on his feet and on the goat again.  I snatched up a stick, since I knew hands are invisible to salukis in hunting mode, and began yelling and pulling and swatting and doing what I could to get them off, but the dogs were oblivious even though I was using all my strength and voice. Finally... I was able to hold Kitty and Beanie off enough to turn to Wolf, who didn’t care what I did. But eventually I had all three in a stand-off, the goat and I facing the three of them as I brandished my stick. The goat stood firm, even allowing me to hold him by one horn. Time for some quiet talk, goat whisperer stuff, and to decide who would get the last two leashes. The goat was closest---keeping him calm was the key to keeping them off---but would a 200  pound feral goat walk on a leash? Would ia leash even hold him? Should I...Bad decision #4: Put the leashes on somebody, anybody, don't just stand there!

Because that was when I heard a loud crashing, and out from the woods hurtled another two goats with three more salukis—Sissy, Stinky, and Jeepers (with his leash flying behind) right on their tails. My goat threw me to the ground and took off to flee with his friends, and Wolf, Kitty, and Beanie took chase. DAMMIT! Now I had three crazed goats and six blood thirsty salukis running amuck in the woods, and on the other side of the fence, still in our yard, but barely, was my mom trying to contain seven more salukis who were going berserk. I was so out of breath from breaking through kudzu I kept falling as I tried to chase them.

I began to realize just how bad a situation this was—if the goats ran out of the woods and across the field, the dogs would follow, and eventually they would cross a 55 mph highway. Unless the goats stopped. I decided if they got another goat down, I would have to let them kill it so I could catch as many dogs as possible while they were diverted. I was horrified at the thought, but even more so at the idea of my six salukis running across the highway.

Fortunately, the goats kept running in circles, wisely I suppose avoiding the open field. I could hear them crashing through the woods, catch an occasional glimpse of a goat or dog part.  I realized the key to the situation was Wolfman, who lived for the hunt—catch him and the others may not be so keen on continuing without their “headman.” One of the goats broke away from the others, with Wolf on his tail. My mom had now climbed over the fence to help. I tried to yell for her to catch Wolf when he went by her, but I was too exhausted to get the words out, and just managed to squeak “Catch…him!” Bad decision #5: Be explicit, even when you can't breathe.

And so my 70 year old mom threw herself on a giant feral goat (she told me later she thought that’s what I meant by "him") and somehow, she says, this goat seemed to know she was trying to help, and he stopped and backed into a fork between two trees next to the fence. Problem was, this allowed the seven dogs inside the fence to reach through and try to bite him--not to mention Wolfman saw his chance now that his quarry was cornered. I saw my chance too. I lurched and stumbled, gasping, to them—and was able to tackle Wolf! I got  the leash on him, but now what? There were still two running goats and five chasing salukis. I tied Wolf to a tree where he started going crazy. Bad decision, but for once, one that didn't bite me in the butt. 
 
One by one I was able to catch the other dogs as they came to see the "caught" goat---or in some cases as they barreled past still chasing or hanging on the others. One by one each dog was passed through the other property's barbed wire fence and then over our field fence---while we tried to keep the cornered goat still and while making sure the excited/jealous dogs inside didn’t jump them. Then we had to try to use our too few leashes to secure them so they didn’t run back around to the downed fence area. Finally we had everyone but Wolf, and we got him through under great protest.  I lost my other shoe somewhere. I am bloody, bruised all over, and I can’t stop coughing from being so out of breath. 
 
Anybody want a saluki? Good with livestock. 

###
There was post script to this: Two days later I went in for my annual physical. I was covered in bruises from goats and dogs. The nurse nodded politely as I explained, and handed me a brochure for battered women. 

OK, out with it: The designer dog--er--elephant in the room. Or on the website. Yes, I wrote a book about designer dogs. "But how, Caroline, how could you write about those overpriced mutts that are helping bring down apple pie, dog shows and the American Kennel Club?"

It took some soul searching (and a glance at my bank statement). When I was first approached by Weldon Owen, a book packager (and we can talk the differences between book packagers and publishers in a future entry) to write it, I sighed and regretted I'd be turning them down.  I've been an AKC participant for most of my life, and I enjoy the perks my AKC dogs allow me. Writing about designer dogs seemed so traitorous.

I thought some more. I studied my bank account some more. And, as I try to do every decade or two, I opened my mind. Not everybody wants to compete. Not everybody wants one of the 150 or so AKC breeds, or even the 450 or so breeds registered elsewhere. And this IS America, home of the free, and home of the freedom to choose an AKC dog, a mutt or even a designer dog.  Withholding information is never the answer, and I'm egotistical enough to think I'm the best source of that information. Who better to present the truth about designer dogs? Who better to say we can't subtitle it "Better than  purebreds" or some other unsubstantiated claim? So I agreed. Well, yeah, I did try to convince them I should write under a pseudonym, but that was a no. Apparently my name has value. How inconvenient.

So, here's the truth about designer dogs: In some cases, they work. Look at the huskies running the Iditarod; most are mixes.  Look at the lurchers (sighthound x non-sighthound mixes) favored for poaching in Britain. The longdogs (sighthound X sighthound mixes) so successful at coyote and jackrabbit hunting in the western United States. Want to succeed at flyball? Get a BorderJack or BorderStaff or one of the other crosses bordering on insanity. Breeds, like cultures, evolve. We strive to hang on to cultural artifacts and antiques, but that doesn't mean we don't stop inventing. Every pure breed we now have was once a novel invention---perhaps even sneered at in  its infancy. 

But let's be truthful: Most designer dog breeders aren't out to make a better hunter or worker. They're out to make a better companion, and their main claim that these dogs are better (besides the fact that most are cute as h**l) is that they're healthier. 

Here's an excerpt from the book: 

When kennel clubs began registering purebreds, they allowed any dog of that general family type to be registered as the breed. At some point, registration closed, leaving a fixed number of potential sires and dams. What wasn't known at the time was that all of us, dog or human, carry from five to seven recessive genes that, if we carried two copies of any one of them, would
result in some type of hereditary disease. Because humans are a bunch of mixed breeds, we don't often end up with a mate who carries the same bad recessive gene
as we do, so it's unusual to produce an affected child. Because those early canine sires and dams carried some random bad recessives, and because all present-day purebred dogs descend from them, there's a fair chance that dogs carrying that same recessive gene might mate, creating a puppy with the disorder caused by that gene. 

The solution? Widen the breeding options, deepen the gene pools to create crossbreeds that don't share the same bad recessives. That's one argument for breeding dogs by design. The trouble is that idea works only within limits. Cross two breeds that share the same disorders and it doesn't work at all. Cross two hybrids again after the initial cross, and you're right back where you started---maybe even worse off: those hybrids will stand a good chance of carrying recessive genes and producing pups with two of the recessives and thus
two disorders. A designer dog should never be just a random mating to "see what happens." Instead, the best mixes blend breeds that can reasonably be expected
to produce desirable physical and behavioral traits.

I can't stress this enough: Just as with a purebred, your source is critical. Most of the designer dog breeders I interviewed left much to be desired in their knowledge of health or genetics. One memorable one had a clearly hydrocephalic designer dog puppy that was being touted as their poster puppy for good health; another had a puppy with a leg I swear was attached backwards! Well, it WAS a novel design...

Too many internet breeders jumped at the chance to produce puppies they could charge twice as much for as they could puppies from same-breed matings. To be fair, many purebred breeders are equally naive and money-motivated. Cave canem, buyer beware and all that. 
 
As for the book, it turned out to be one of the most beautiful  books I've been associated with--and fun. The folks at Weldon Owen were a dream to work with, my editor, Peter Cieply, made me look smart, the photography by Anna Kuperburg was stunning, the models captivating, the owners thrilled and the text gave me a chance to be both fanciful and factful (Is that a
word?). And I got to meet some pretty cool dogs!

For example, there's the Chesador, whose profile begins with:  Attaboy--shake it out! This sportsman loves a good dousing, be it from splashing along in the surf or dog-paddling around the lake. If you share the  Chesador's enthusiasm for all things active, you'll get along swimmingly...

The Jack Chi: All saunter and swagger, the Jack Chi acts like he's the biggest deal on the block. But despite his bold braggadocio and bad-boy image, he's a trickster and a charmer. And though he's happy to be scrappy, he
also craves a cuddle...

 ...And 34 other breeds, all represented by dogs who are very special to someone, and just as cherished and deserving as any purebred. 

 

I just sent back a dog book proposal. For the second time. It wasn't one I wrote. It was one I evaluated. And for the second time, it got a no-go from me. This actually makes me sad. I like it when good dog books are published. Many times after evaluating a manuscript (after my initial spurt of envy has subsided) I put in a request for a copy of the book when it comes out. So I'm not happy when I have to finally say, "Don't send it back to me. Ever."

So today's entry is a recycled one, from an article I wrote that appeared in the Dog Writers Association of America's newsletter, Ruff Drafts: 

###

You were given the green light to submit a pet book  proposal. You worked on your proposal and sent it to the acquisitions editor, visions of contracts and dollars dancing in your head. But then somebody ruined
everything: some idiot rejected your proposal!  Who would do such a thing? 
 
It depends on the publisher, but many times the person
who would do such a thing is a veterinarian, dog writer, or dog breeder that the publisher asks to evaluate the sample chapter for readability, information and
appropriateness.  I have been that  person at times, and I have talked to others who have been that person. And here is what I can tell you: We are lazy. We like it when writers make our job easy. 
 
Writers make the job the easiest by submitting a well-written proposal that meets the target readership and provides useful, specific  information. A good proposal requires very few comments or even brain-power from
the evaluator to give a recommendation that the publisher should go with it. 
 
Writers make the job second-easiest by submitting a proposal that  is clearly bad in the first few pages. Sure, it takes more effort on the  evaluators' parts to write comments and explain why they can't recommend it,  but after they've gotten to the point where they suggest the author not even try to write anything beyond his name in the future, there's not much more to say.  
 
Following are some of my favorite writer types--besides the "I Can Read Directions and Write a good Proposal" type: 

1) The "Fantasy Con" writer: Nobody likes to think
they're being conned. That was the case when I read a proposal about---well, let's call it Earthdog. Good topic. But when the authors claimed the potential  audience was all Terrier owners (plus Dachshund owners) and then bolstered that  claim with the registration statistics for the entire Terrier group---including Bull Terriers and all the others than don't do Earthdog---they were either dumb or thought I was. Then they multiplied the annual registration figures by 13, which they claimed was the average age of terriers and so represented how many
were living in America and how many books could be sold. According to them, the book had the potential to sell at least a hundred thousand copies.   Another publisher ultimately bought the book. A couple of years later I saw it in the remainder pile at a warehouse bookstore.  Why would anyone want to mislead a publisher into writing something that won't sell?  With the advances most publishers of dog books pay, you are only fooling yourself because you'll end up writing a book that won't pay you back for your efforts.

 2) The "I Could Have Written That" writer:
Plagiarism---it should not even have to be mentioned in this article. Except I run into it. A lot. The most blatant case was when I noticed the author's style had suddenly changed. As I read further, I realized I agreed with what she was saying. I mean, REALLY agreed with it. Why, it almost sounded like something  I'd write myself...Because I had. A quick check of one of my own books found the pages she'd lifted for her proposal.  It's very bad form to plagiarize---and very bad luck to plagiarize from the evaluator's own work!  I'm willing to think the author was not that foolish---that with all the copying of sections from books to people's websites, she may have lifted it from a website who in turn had lifted it from the book. Either way, not acceptable. 
 
3) The "I'm Too Busy to Write a New Proposal" writer: Yeah, join the club. But generic text is the single most common reason that a breed book is rejected. The sample chapter is the writer's chance to show off why they should be chosen to write about this specific topic. Yet many choose to submit a generic chapter on a generic topic that's obviously lifted from their last book. Write about a topic as specific to that breed as possible. Don't submit a chapter about grooming, for example, if  you're writing about Greyhounds. Write instead about adopting a track greyhound or about the breed's health peculiarities.  The same is true for the proposed Table
of Contents; include breed-specific sections. Don't promise sections on jogging with your Pekingese, de-matting your Basenji, teaching your Basset Hound not to
counter surf, or weight pulling with your IG. And yes, I really have received some of these. 

4) The "I'm an Expert Because I Am" writer: Scholarship can be  another problem area. Dog people tend to think they are experts simply because they have owned dogs for a long time. And while this does give them some expertise, it also makes many complacent about continuing education. I often read training chapters that could have been plucked from the 1960s, veterinary chapters with outdated information, and even grooming information that has no basis in reality. (And yes, as a writer I have been guilty of this as well. For
example, neutering does NOT reduce the rate of prostate cancer, as I recited blindly for years until I happened to look it up. Oops.) If you know something for a fact because you've always known it for a fact, assume it's not really a fact until you find a source that proves it's a fact. 

5) The "Don't Ask Me" writer:  The writer's job is to explain, not to refer readers elsewhere for an
explanation. Don't take care of the Yorkie grooming chapter by saying "ask your breeder to show you"  and "take him to a good groomer." You can add this advice, and even some URLS to detailed websites, but your book's job is to explain, not refer. I once evaluated a book that could have been boiled down to about six lines of text: "To learn about (feeding, vaccinations, training, grooming, competing) ask your (veterinarian, trainer, groomer, breeder)."  I felt like telling the author he might consider asking them and then writing down
the answers. Actually, I probably did tell him that. 

6) The "They Has Copyeditors For That" writer: Grammar counts.  Sure, a copyeditor will fix grammatical mistakes, and even rewrite sentences and paragraphs to make them more readable. But they charge by the hour, and a manuscript with a lot of  problems is going to cost the publisher a lot of money. And that gets noted on an evaluation.  Why pay somebody to write a book when you already know you'll be paying somebody to rewrite the same book? A writer would have to be the world's expert on a topic to get away with essentially hiring a ghost writer to make up for sterling text such as "If you're dogs mouth is smelling badly, than he may have a problem, you will have to look for by opening it's mouth, and looking to see if they're teeth are  infected which happens if you don't brush them and this can effect the  heart too."  Of course, having written this, I am now very self-conscious about this paragraph's grammar...
 
7) The "See How Smart I Am?" writer: Writing style
counts--and here evaluators will differ greatly. But some styles will get red flags from almost any evaluator. On one extreme some writers seem to revel in showing off how much smarter they are than the reader. They use fancy words where simple ones would suffice, and they skip over information that's necessary to make the rest of a section understandable. They include sections of information that while true, really aren't useful.  "Dogs with immune-deficiency diseases may have problems with phagocytosis. Phagocytosis is an essential feature of the immune system. Phagocytes are found underlying the mucous membranes and skin in the bloodstream, spleen, lymph nodes, meninges, synovial membrane, bone marrow and around blood vessels  all over the
body. Phagocytes are either in the tissue(histiocytes, synovial macrophages, Kupffer cells, and such) or in the blood (polymorphonuclear leukocytes, monocytes). If you suspect your dog may have an immune-deficient disease, consult your veterinarian." You know at this point the writer really wants to add, "because they are the only ones nearly as smart as I am."

8) The "Let Me Write This Really S-L-O-W" writer: On the other extreme are the writers who assume being new at something is the same as being mentally challenged. "You will want to find a veterinarian for your dog. One way is to ask friends. Find a friend with a dog and ask what veterinarian they go to. Ask whether they like him or not. Another way is to look in the phone book
for your city. You will need a phone book with yellow pages (these are the pages that list businesses---and are yellow). Look under "V" for veterinarian. Here you will find a list of veterinarians in your area. Caution: Some listings may be from out of town. You will need to check with them to see where they are located. Another
way to do this is to check the phone number prefix. Once you have located a veterinarian in your area, call the number listed." At this point, the writer really should add, "If you are actually reading this intently you really should not own a dog as you are way too stupid."

9) The "Third Time's a Charm, Right?" writer: Yes,
people actually send in drafts, complete with notes that they will fill in certain sections if the publisher really wants to see them, or will fix the  typos if they get the job. Yeah, that always makes a good impression.  Wonder if he plans to send in a draft of the completed manuscript.

10) The "What's a Subheading?" writer:  It's not the lack of subheading alone, but what including one could have done to help. The amazing thing about using subheads is that they point out where your organization has gone astray. Surely subheads would have helped the sample chapter that combined collar placement, nutrition, nail care, vaccinations, and a touch of history in the same section dealing with how to teach your dog to sit. I hope. A sample chapter is not your chance to write every stray fact in one place. Really. 

11) The "You Get the Idea" writer: OK, figure it out. If the book you are writing the sample chapter for is supposed to have 50,000 words and 10 chapters, and you submit a sample chapter consisting of 1000 words, do you think maybe mathematically there may be a problem if this is truly a sample of how your chapters will be? The request was for a sample chapter, not a sample subheading. 

12) The "You Can't Tell Me What to Do" writer: More often than not, a proposal isn't all bad or all good. It may show promise in some areas but  suffer from poor scholarship, lack of detail, or bad advice. The proposal goes back to the author with comments from the evaluator and an offer to resubmit the proposal.  Often, these comments are the result of a lot of work and fact-finding on the evaluator's part. This is why it's a good idea to try to address them in the re-write.  The writer can follow the evaluator's suggestions or  can dispute the evaluator's assertions, in the latter case backing up the refutations with evidence or opinions that very often do sway the evaluator's or acquisitions editor's opinion. What the writer should not do is ignore the comments. But as often as not, the writer, who either cannot read or assumes the proposal is going to a different evaluator, instead resubmits essentially the
same proposal in perhaps a different font size.  This does little to impress the evaluator.

To be fair, most proposals are neither hit-you-in-the-face good or bad. These are the ones that make an evaluator work making detailed comments and suggestions on how to make the proposal better on a second chance.
 
So how do you get a good evaluation the first time? Assume this sample is the only chance you'll have. Don't mislead, don't cheat, don't cut corners. Research your facts. Make the text specific to the topic or breed.  Write in practical detail, and assume readers will rely on what you write.  Assume your readers are smart but not educated in your topic. Organize. Proof  read. Proof read again. Consider an evaluator's comments and address them one  way or another.  And sacrifice a chicken by the full moon.