If you're truly serious about dogs, there's nothing more serious than breeding.
"We had dogs for five years before we felt that we had something of quality to breed," says Judy Norris, a dental assistant from Concord who scours the country looking for likely candidates to mate with her Australian shepherds.
Because novice "backyard breeders" or puppy mills in the Midwest pay little attention to hereditary defects, which often don't show up in a litter for up to two years, any self-respecting dog aficionado won't touch a puppy unless its hips have been X-rayed for dysplasia and certified by the Orthopedic Foundation of America. You can buy cheaper pups out of a newspaper ad, say the breeders, but you might be looking at potential surgery down the road -- $1,500 per hip. Essentially, it's pay now or pay later.
Dog breeders are also the current civic scapegoat, conveniently to blame for crowded shelters. Berkeley and other cities charge owners more for licenses if a dog is not spayed, and in San Mateo, an ordinance was even passed to ban breeding dogs entirely -- the first such law in the country.
"They can't enforce these things," says a livid Carol Pitlock. "Why don't we lower the crime rate instead? That's their reaction to animal overpopulation -- to dogs getting euthanized in the shelters -- is to go back to the breeders."
Another current issue facing the doggie world is the trendiness factor: dog as fashion accessory.
"We're a throwaway society," says Joan Guertin, a dog trainer in from Sacramento. "We don't make a commitment when we get a pet." Whether it's Dalmatian or retriever, animal shelters are flooded with yesterday's breed-of-the-month, victims of somebody's upper-middle-class whim.
At least people here at the camp love their pets. After a gray shepherd struggles his way through a completely silly-looking activity -- herding three stupid little flightless ducks around a pen, coached by a woman in a sun hat -- its owner clicks on the leash and walks off, gushing to nobody in particular:
"I'm excited! He passed! I'm really excited! It was like my son out there!"
Another woman walking down a path is asked if her Afghan is a herder, and she responds proudly:
"Yes, they are. In the Sinai Desert. I just read an article on it!"
As the redwood shadows grow across the Happy Valley Conference Center lawn, activities are wrapping up. The agility equipment is long packed away and gone. The Italian runner ducks are worn out. Quentin LaHam's seminar on anatomy is winding to a close. A woman is hosing off her dog, fresh from a swim in the creek. A few owners are lounging at the main lodge, their animals splayed on the ground, little pear-size brains spinning with overstimulation.
Dog people get a rap for being goofy and cutesy, but they act the way they do for a number of reasons. Most civic laws are against them. Setting a good example as a responsible pet owner is important, so they take it very seriously. Also, they're constant parents of a child for the rest of its life. It's a full-time commitment. You can't break up with your dog and stop returning its calls. And dog people are frequently single folks living in a society that disdains couples, who choose canine companionship because it beats coming home to an empty house. Which may explain why an overwhelming majority here are women.
Regardless of gender or species, the Canine Camp has had an effect on everyone.
"There's something very spiritual up here," admits Joan Guertin. "It's a replenishment. It's a confidence-builder for people who weren't sure their dog was capable of doing some of these things, or weren't sure they were capable of training the dog to do some of these things."
Telepathic communicator Raphaela is even more succinct: "If you can communicate with an animal, it's much harder to treat them badly."
Address all correspondence to: Slap Shots, c/o SF Weekly, 425 Brannan, San Francisco, CA 94107; e-mail: Slapshawtsaol.com.
foam order.com
