CONFESSIONS OF A HARSH, JUDGEMENTAL AND UNAPOLOGETIC DOG-SNOB.

In 2018 the French Bulldog became the most popular dog breed in the UK. In 2022 the yappy little Frenchies took America also. This dog snob does not approve.

The metropolitan dog walker is a judgemental beast. The daily

ball-throwing / poop and sniffing expeditions in the park serving as

both loyal devotion to one’s four-legged’s health and wellbeing and

also a prime opportunity to fiercely critique other people’s dogs. I

don’t know about you, but I consider myself something of a expert in

the art of London pouch-panning and dog-bitching; an Anna Wintour /

Simon Cowell sort, checking out coats and paws, pricked-up ears and

waggly tails on the international runway known as the Kensington

Gardens broadwalk. I am a dog snob.

My eye is quick and keen. My inner-monologuing, kibble-dry cruel.

Every passing hound is assessed, Terminator-style, via a fast, head-to-tail scan, for gaiety and gait. My dog-determination assesses each thoroughbred, mutt and puppy for cuteness, delight, behaviour and handsomeness, friendliness and general loveliness.

As I walk, and bend down to squish excrement into poo-bag, I am still working - marking on coat quality, character, affability and playfulness. Each animal wildly unfairly judged, of course, against the gold standard of poodle/schnauzer gorgeousness and furry, bella figura fabulosity on the end of my own Hermes-orange leather leash.

My black Schnoodle Wilma being West London best-in-show for some nine years now.

But the most pleasure during a KP sojourn is derived from the meanest bow-wow adjudication of all ; as you pass me I will be deciding, completely unreasonably, but quite definitively, whether your dog is cool, posh…or naff.

Black lab? Posh. For me this is a docile, friendly, slobbery, handsome,

kid-friendly, useful classic that says; big house in Notting Hill,

even bigger second home in the Cotswolds. (Gun dogs are, generally,

cool and posh). Rescue dogs are cool (though not posh and therefore, actually quite posh) Guy the Beagle (RIP) adopted in

Canada and saved from a “kill shelter” in Kentucky being the only good

thing to come out of Meghan Sussex’s Netflix kitchen. Jack Russell? Also posh. The JR It is the new Corgi - Queen Camilla’s favoured breed begetting Queen Elizabeth’s.

The London-ubiquitous French Bulldog? Like the ones the Beckhams have? Terminally naff. Who wants a dog that breathes like Dot Cotton and needs picking up all the time. Air dogs are so Paris Hilton / noughties.

What else does this Mr. Blackwell of the parklands like?

Right now, it is the whippet that is humping this gnasher police

man’s leg. The elegant, S-shaped breed, which recently won at Crufts

(adorable “Muicca” from Venice, Italy) once the mainstay of

the flat-capped and mufflered Yorkshireman, suddenly has serious

London it-dog potential and zeitgeisty, thoroughbred chops. Whippets

being sleek, low maintenance, a bit nervy and neurotic, non-barking,

doe-eyed, hypoallergenic and very, very photogenic.

Blonde, leggy beauties like Muccia (named after Muccia “Mui Mui”

Prada, one hopes?) are also loyal, skinny-lean, fleet footed and

although not completely hypoallergenic, short-coated and mostly

non-shedding so friendlier to allergy sufferers than many breeds.

(Hypoallergenic breeds - doodles and poos - in case you didn’t know,

being very much the dog for people with “dietries”, “intolerances” and

emotional assistance on aeroplanes.) Whippets love sleeping and

curling up into adorable shapes. They give good park and social media.

This, then, is the new fashion dog. Le chien a la mode.

It wasn’t always like this for the humble whippet in the UK. For

most of the 20th century “the poor man’s racehorse” (the fastest

idle-to-running acceleration of any dog in the world - the word

“whippet” being olde English for “moves quickly”) was a dour, working

class, down-market dog, synonymous with amateur racing and tweedy

headgear, owned by coal miners living in cramped terraced houses and the butt of endless parodying from the likes of Monty Python.

Now, the prestige of Crufts, the low growl of a cultural/canine vibe shift away from confrontational, jolie laide features of pugs and boxers and bullies,combined with the latest celebrity patronage of Blur’s Alex James and Lucien Freud (who had two whippets, often painting his beloved Pluto in oils, Pluto also inspiring daughter Bella Freud’s fashion brand’s logo) will whip up a whippet social media and shopping frenzy.

Just as plain, working class names like Charlie and Alfie and

Elsie and Maud have been reclaimed by the affluent middles, so it is

with dog breeds. What used to be declasse and only good for ratting,

is now fashionised and rebranded for people with three thousand quid

to spend and 10,000 followers to keep entertained.

But with fashions in dogs rising and falling like skirt hems and

heel heights, and the super cute success of Crufts runner-up and fan favourite Ana the Jack Russell probably causing a similar spike in

registrations (darling photos of Camilla’s Jack Russell terriers

Bluebell and Beth, draped in their owner’s pearl necklaces, shot for

Country Life by the The Duchess of Cambridge will have helped) does

that mean that your dog, or even worse MY dog, is now….unfashionable

and uncool?

Yes, trusty Labrador and fooferly French bulldogs, poos and

doodles are still popular, top ten breeds. But are they also naff

Dogs? Don’t beat yourself up for caring about too much because Britain has been a nation of dog snobs for decades. now. The “it” dog of the 1920s, for instance? That would be the Wire-haired terrier, as owned by Queen Victoria and Edward VII - 1929 also being the year that Tintin’s pure white, wire-haired fox terrier sidekick Snowy was ‘born’.

In the 1950s and 1960s, breedfluencers including Winston Churchill, Barbra Streisand and Elvis, gave poodles - miniature and toy - the run of park. During the 80s, 90s, 2000s, 2010s? Britain was slobbery with Labradors.

And who didn’t love a handsome, docile, slobbery lab? Tastemaker Nicky Haslam that’s who. The snooty interior designer thought they were (and still are) naff and cliched. “They're all called Coco and they're all incredibly stupid,” the pronouncer of all things “common” decreed. “For heaven's sake, have a pekingese.”

A pekingese…like Queen Victoria, the Roosevelts and the JP Morgans

used to have? A pointless, yappy lap accessory if you ask me but also very “now”, apparently. As is anything else small,

handbaggable and instagramable with a brachycephalic baby face. (All very naff if you ask Park Pooch Fashion Policeman Mills btw)

The times from 2018 forwards have been momentous years for the British and its bulldogs. In the same year that Prince William and Kate Middleton had their third child, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle got married and a nappy-clad, Trump baby blimp greeted the US president as he arrived for a state visit, the French

Bulldog over took the Labrador as the UK’s favourite breed for the first time. Lady Gaga, Martha Stewart, Hugh Jackman, Micheal Phelps had French bullies. Carrie Fisher had a French bulldog therapy mutt called Gary. The Beckhams’ called there’s Scarlet and the rest of the country went “ah”.

Where once Britain had looked to small horse-sized working dogs and keen retrievers for our canine companions, we had gradually traded in practicality for photogenic and social media friendliness. (Beckhams + dogs = Naff. These are instagram people. Not proper dog people)

Also v much in fashion - lots more women, eg Victoria Beckham, owning dogs. According to a recent survey by the Dogs Trust, canine ownership in the UK is currently a predominantly female thing - some 73.5% of dog registrations being from women. Women tend to like smaller dogs too - hence a boom in the popularity of lap-top Dachshund, Pug, Bichon Frise etc, (Cool. Naff. Naff. respectively)

A paper published in America’s Journal of Ethnobiology suggests that

this trend is more down to natural selection than happy accident -

turns out that a dog is not man’s best friend, but actually, lady’s

BFF.

The report stated that “dogs’ relationships with women having a

greater impact on the dog-human bonding experience than their

relationships with men”. Dogs being actually pretty modern, woke types

also, do prefer the characteristics attributed to females, but it is

the characteristics that they are attracted to and not the gender.

This means that men who talk to their dogs in a non shouty, un-butch

or non militaristic manner but with a kind and soothing voice (like a

woman’s, right? - bit of a heteronormative assumption but let’s go

with it for now) are more likely to become their pup’s favourite.

Tall, burly, men with short tempers and big voices can be scary and unfriendly, especially for smaller dogs. The owners’ looks play a part too. Bigger breeds are not as intimidated by men’s larger body frames, beardy faces and loud voices.

This large man with a big voice, knows what it is like to have a

top, un-naff dog - my schnoodle Wilma always being the most

fashionable mongrel off-lead in K&C. Pictorial proof of her Cindy

Crawford-like strut and Naomi Campbell silhouette on my personal

instagram (mostly dog) which shows Wilma posing with her rough and

tough Kensington Gardens dog pal gang.

One shot, snapped on an Autumn morning, several years back, with William Wegman elegance and framing by my excellent, once-a-week dog-walker Pawel, captures all seven K&C gang dogs sitting (except Wilma, who stands defiant, showing off her wooly magnificence) all staring straight at the camera, like a Ramones album cover, obedient but charged for carousing, bum sniffing, zooming and squirrel chasing. The photo is a work of art up there with Guernica, Madame X and those cool bulldogs playing billiards and whenever I look at it I just think; damn. I have the coolest, prettiest, hippest, most fashionable MF dog in London.

It gets better; after I’d posted the image on my feed and watched

the adoring likes and comments flood in (anyone who didn’t respond,

immediately dead to me) I noticed the same pic popping up on another

Instagram page belonging to Ed Simmons from the Chemical Brothers; Ed

also name-checking his mutt from the park shot.

Yes, Wilma’s gang includes an actual, bonafide Chemical Brother Canine which means that she is not only hip, elegant, affectionate, sweet, full of joy and character, great ass and long legs and piercing, brackish eyes, she is also connected. This, I thought, is the life of a cool, fashionable, London dog.

Other endorsements of her cool grace and un-naffness; like the day when

we bumped into Bill Nighy on Notting Hill Gate - the actor and

ubiquitous West End flaneur so entranced by Wilma that he had to pick

her up and cuddle her. Or the magical moment when we (Wilma and I,

that is) met a couple in the park who told me how they had encountered

Wilma a few years previously and had been so delighted by her that

they’d decided to buy their own schnoodle (schnauzer/poodle cross) for

themselves…and there she was, just the same, sniffing Wilma’s face

(Though not quite so pretty, obvs). My dog, the breedfluencer!

Wilma is socially mobile and immaculately well behaved; she likes to have lunch at Fischer’s in Marylebone, sitting up at the table quietly and

impeccably. She’s had breakfast at Brown’s on Dover Street (they do a

special dog menu) and once spent the weekend at The Emory on Hyde Park charming everyone in the elevators and the lobby.

Then, as with all things fashionable - over exposure, questionable celebrity association, your canine brand in crisis. Whilst Wilma was still a puppy, the execrable Zoolander 2 was released and it was a very unfashionable flop. Worse still, Derek’s dog of choice in the movie was…a schnoodle. Named “Karl Dogerfeld”.

Everyone hated the film but seemed to know all about Derek’s

schnoodle Karl. So much so, that when I told them what breed my own

dog was, they’d say, “oh - like Derek Zoolander’s”. (He also had a

cockapoo named “Bark Jacobs”)

So, perhaps, after living with toxic celebrity endorsement and dated

pedigree for almost a decade, it is time for this fashion dog-walker

to re-home noughties schnoodle Wilma and trade up to a more au

courant and Muccia-ish whippet?

(Only kidding…I would never swap. Not even her for a whippet!)

(It’s going to be Jack Russell)