Published: April 25, 2008 10:23 am            

Labradoodles: ‘Designer dog’ or high-priced mutt?

I have been had. If I were a cartoon, my head would now turn into a giant sucker. I am, keep in mind, a very skeptical person. I won’t buy vinyl siding or deck cleaners because they smell identical to bleach. Come on, they even come in a bleach jug with fancy lettering. A gallon of bleach for twenty bucks, I am way too smart for that.

All of this said, I have been had, conned, suckered, or, however you want to say it.

Four years ago my wife decided she wanted a puppy. Not just any puppy. She wanted a Labradoodle, the result of crossbreeding a male poodle and a female Labrador retriever. Labradoodles are a breed now being referred to as a “designer” dog.

We did all the research and decided we wanted to be part of this upper echelon of dog owners. This would change our social status, we thought. We had read of all the celebrities that owned these dogs, and we would be the first in our area to own one of these majestic animals. Forget the price tag that was so high we could buy five Labrador retrievers. This would be the ultimate pet-owning experience. I envisioned a dog that would not only retrieve the morning paper, but would have my car started and the coffee ready.

Yeah, this was going to be a wonderful experience.

After countless hours on the Internet, searching most of the eastern seaboard, we found our puppy a mere two hours from our home. It was coming together like a well-written play. We met the breeder at a nearby shopping mall, where she delivered our treasure.

She was tiny, had a beautiful chocolate coat, and we fittingly named her Hershey.

Labradoodles were said to have been bred for guide or seeing eye dogs for people who are allergic to other dogs. By crossbreeding the two breeds you, could get the best of both — the work ethic of the Labrador and the intelligence of the hypoallergenic poodle.

We brought Hershey home, and she, for the most part, lived up to the hype. In the first week, she was housebroken and able to perform any trick I taught her.

All of the research we had done proved that we made the greatest of decisions. We quite possibly had the most wonderful dog on the planet.

I had doubts about our decision on Hershey’s first visit to the veterinarian. As the receptionist was filling out Hershey’s information card, I noticed she put “mixed” beside the line marked “breed of animal.” Mixed? I thought, I was sure I told her she was a Labradoodle. Oh well, it would be too much trouble to explain. This was not the time or place or point out her ignorance. Besides, she could be reprimanded or even fired and I wouldn’t want to be responsible for that. So, I let it slide.

The next time I had a reality check was four years after we had bought our puppy.

Yes, it took that long.

My oldest daughter had been watching the Westminster Dog Show on television and had become increasingly interested in dogs and certain breeds in particular. While riding in the car one afternoon, she asked, “Daddy, where do mutts come from?”

I thought carefully of my answer, not wanting to subject myself to more difficult questions that I was not prepared to answer.

“Well, honey, mutts are a mix between two different breeds of dogs,” I answered.

“You mean like Hershey,” she said.

I laughed to myself at such an innocent and naïve question.

“No, honey” I said, still tiptoeing around the innocence. “Hershey is a Labradoodle.”

“But, isn’t she a mix between a poodle and a Labrador?” she asked somewhat confused.

“Yes,” I answered. “So doesn’t that mean she is a mutt?”

“Well no…. you see…Hershey is a…..”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. She was right. Hershey was a mutt. I coughed to avoid choking on my pride. It took four years for me to realize what a 10-year-old did in 10 minutes. Hershey is a mutt, and I had been had.

Not only had I been sold a mutt, but I looked at myself as an owner of a special breed of dog that not everyone was cut out to own. I suddenly had visions of all of these designer dog breeders sitting around together, laughing and smoking expensive cigars while counting giant stacks of $100 bills.

Today, I stood in the yard and watched Hershey play with our other dog, Maggie Mae, a full-blooded Labrador retriever we purchased seven years ago at one-fourth of the price of Hershey. Hershey is almost 5 years old now, and I must admit, I wouldn’t take 10 times what I paid for her now.

My shoulders, however, are sticky from the sucker that is my head melting in the sun.

As I watch the two dogs frolic in the yard, I notice my deck has weathered hard this winter and needs to be cleaned. There is no use for me to pretend any longer. I will be buying the gallon of bleach with a fancy label that says “Deck Cleaner.”

After all, I am used to paying a lot of money for a fancy designer label.

Jerry Stewart is a feature writing student at Concord University.

        

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