Fifty years ago this Christmas we got our first “show” puppy (meaning a pure bred canine with all the lineage and breeder certifications behind it to qualify for American Kennel Club shows). He was a surprise gift from my husband, probably a subtle incentive intended toward prompting me to want to start a family. (It worked; our son was born the next year.) At any rate, I consider that Christmas to actually be the beginning of “our traditional family,” one of enduring puppy love.

     That first puppy, Nero, was a Rottweiler. He had been flown to us from a reputable breeder in Montgomery, Alabama, with whom we ultimately became good friends. He was such a darling thing, a cute little black-and-tan wriggly with big paws that indicated his growth to come. It was love at first sight, of course. But then, we noticed some problems: he couldn’t walk well, he couldn’t stand, eventually he could hardly move. We took him down to Auburn University in Alabama, one of the premier veterinary schools in the country, where they determined that our darling puppy had been dropped or mishandled in transport and had arrived with a fractured vertebrae. And so that became the sad ending to that first Christmas beginning.

     From that experience, we vowed never to ship a dog again, but we did  promptly drive down and pick up another show puppy named Pharo. He, too, was a Rottweiler, and he was a show stopper! He easily became a champion of this and that and everything. He was super smart, pranced and preened and did all the right things in the show ring, but he was a brat and not easy to live with. Gradually we had two more Rottweilers along with Pharo,  one of whom was his mother, also a champion, that we retired from our breeder friend.

     We and our Rottweilers became bonafide  “doggie people” on the show circuit for ten years or more and even our young son handled Pharo in the show ring. My husband especially became very, very involved in the Medallion Rottweiler Club (of which he is still a member) and we regularly traveled to shows and specialties. Most people who simply have family pets or adopt (bless them) from a rescue site don’t realize what a huge “doggie subculture” exists in pure-bred show dogs and breed clubs. Nor do they realize that these breed clubs don’t exist to be snobbish, but to preserve and perpetuate the character, the strengths, and the reputations of breeds that they cherish. 

     Sadly, the reputation and the quality of the Rottweiler breed had begun to suffer in the late-80’s due to back-yard breeders and adverse publicity about the breed’s more aggressive tendencies. Meanwhile, we had earlier encountered our first Greater Swiss Mountain Dog, owned by August Busch III, in St. Louis at Grant’s Farm, which is the home of the famous Clydesdale horses. That Swissy, named Casar vom Neuhof, was much larger than a Rottweiler, but a gentle giant who acted as a good-will ambassador welcoming all visitors. His big-hearted temperament was impressive as his size.

     We never forgot that first encounter with Casar, which prompted my husband to research this  rare breed and to become obsessed with photographing them at dog shows. Through the Greater Swiss Mountain Dog Club of America (GSMDCA),  we acquired our own Swiss Mountain Dog, Baron of High Ridge in 1989. Baron soon won Winner’s Dog and Best of Breed in a Specialty Show right out of the puppy class; from there he was “discovered” by advertising talent agents and ultimately, became the corporate mascot called “Network” featured on ads and in appearances for Sun MicroSystems. Baron was magnificent, to say the least. He was so well-trained that he could walk the streets of New York City with no leash and could sit at photo shoots under tables laden with food and never even sneak a snack. He was a true professional, and a photographer’s joy.  (Not to mention that his royalties from print ads and personal appearances with the CEO of Sun MicroSystems paid for two semesters of our son’s education at a private university.) 

     Next in line was Ike (Derby’s Eisenhower), Baron’s son. Ike had Baron’s good looks, but even more of a dedicated competitive show and obedience spirit. He was incredibly smart and easy to train, even if a bit more high-strung than his father. “Mom, you finally have a dog that is you,” my son said. With his compulsive energy and drive, Ike ended up with more championships, drafting titles, and obedience degrees than most people we know. And through training him, my husband became a judge and a trainer himself, an active member of the GSMDCA and their first delegate to the American Kennel Club. Between the dog shows, the demonstrations, the drafting clinics, and the active promotion of the breed for recognition by the AKC in 1995, my husband’s lifelong passion for canines became his dominating interest.

     Over the years we have had three more Swissys, often overlapping, all out of Baron’s bloodline: Duke, then Kaas, and then Mac. Sadly, the larger the breed, the shorter the lifespan, so most of these magnificient companions only lived to be 8 or 9 years old. Mac, our last Swissy (pictured) enjoyed exceptional health his whole life and made it to the ripe old age of 11, which was quite something. But arthritis finally got the better of him as he lost muscle strength, so we had to put him to sleep right before Thanksgiving this year. It was incredibly sad, not only because it is truly a loss of a comforting and beloved family member, but also because we knew that as we ourselves were getting older, Mac would have to be our last large-breed companion. Moreover, his passing also marks the end of our active “doggie years,” particularly for my husband who has devoted so much of his life and love of animals to the cause of their protection.

     Roughly 66% of American households have some sort of pet, more today than ever before. Much of this growth is rightly attributed to the loneliness and stress ignited by the Covid epidemic, and the apparent remaining stress of a chaotic world situation. The family dog population has increased from 52.9 million in 1996 to 87.7 million in 2024. (FYI: The cat population has remained fairly stable during the same period.)  It doesn’t matter whether the family pet is a pure-bred dog or one rescued from a shelter. What matters most is that “Fido” lives with you in your home and is given the love and opportunity through care and training to become an active member of the family. 

     The average IQ of most people is somewhere between 85 and 115; the average house dog has been shown to have an IQ of about 100, and a developed vocabulary of about 250 words, which is roughly equal to that of a small child between 2 and 3 years old. With the right training, some exceptionally intelligent breeds can develop a human vocabulary of about 1,000 words.  In other words, your family dog is probably smarter than most of your friends and relatives!

     God knows that they are more loving, more devoted, more forgiving and more understanding. They intuitively know when you are sad or lonely or depressed or even just sick with a cold;  they will sit by your bed, look into your eyes and nurse you with their wet noses. There is a reason that canines are the first choice for comfort and service animals; they really are a man’s — and a woman’s — best friend.

      Saying good-bye to our Mac is equal parts profound gratitude for his life with us and profound grief for his loss. And saying good-bye to 50 years of being devoted “doggie people” is now the sad ending of puppy love this Christmas season.