Pampered Poodle

When they rummage through clues to their past, future anthropologists may find no more intriguing tribal customs than those practiced at the 82nd Westminster Kennel Club dog show, the two-day rite that packed Manhattan's Madison Square Garden last week with 2,500 dogs and 40,000 humans.

Well-dressed but rudely shoving crowds bellied up to endless rows of benches to adore nearly 100 varieties of dog. The air bristled with ammoniac fumes. To prepare the quadruped idols for the worshiping throng, handlers laved them in exotic ceremonies. They rubbed chalk into the hides of sheep dogs and collies to stiffen and brighten the white areas. Some anointed the beasts with such hair beautifiers as Helene Curtis Spray Net and Adorn. One high priestess to an Airedale basted her dog with beer and brilliantine to stiffen and shine its coat. Terrier handlers carefully plucked hair from their dogs' legs and chests, leaving a pile of red fuzz on the floor. Rumors flew that some of the competitors even had eye drops to enhance their pupils. And to keep up morale, Abercrombie & Fitch was on hand with gifts not only for the dog, e.g., rubber fire hydrants, $1, but also for the owner (imported silk ties emblazoned with dog heads, $8.50).

Shorn Rump & Hock. At the climax of the ritual, a livestock farmer in a dinner jacket squatted before six dogs already judged best of their groups and poked, prodded and peered with fervor while the animals danced through their paces. Said Judge William W. Brainard Jr., the Jersey farmer who made the final choice of the best dog: "Believe it or not," said Brainard, "it was a very close decision." After communing with himself he bestowed the blue ribbon on Ch. (for Champion) Puttencove Promise, a pure white standard poodle.

Forebears of Puttencove Promise and the thousands of other poodles in the U.S. were working dogs, alert, spring-legged animals, clever enough to serve as performers in traveling French circuses. They were capable retrievers in the field; their sensitive noses and remarkable swimming ability made them favorites among hunters. Virtually all that today's show poodle has to remind it of its ancestors is an elaborate coiffure that once made sense. The luxuriant ruff left thick from head to hindquarters provided warmth when working outdoors in hunting weather. The short-shorn saddle over the rump and the shaven legs with bracelets of hair over hock and foot allowed the dog freedom of action while swimming and still provided necessary protection against heat and cold.

Crushed Rock & Music. Puttencove Promise, of course, needs no such special adaption. Born in Manchester, Mass, at kennels owned by Mrs. George Putnam, the three-year-old male has lived all its life in lapdog luxury. Ever since it was ten months old, it has had a two-hour brushing every two days. It is clipped once a week, gets an extra clipping and has its teeth brushed before every show. And only before shows does Puttencove Promise get bathed; the dog just never gets dirty. In wet weather it is exercised on an outdoor run covered with clean, crushed rock; when the sun is out, it is allowed to romp on a carefully groomed lawn. Its pen has a radio to supply soothing music and a carpet of brown paper, not the usual shreds of newspaper, for newsprint might soil the poodle's coat.

If they ever figure out what it all meant, future researchers may well point to all the pampering plus the ultimate triumph at the Westminster as the beginning of the decline of the poodle as a dog-show idol. Now pet shops across the country will stock up on the saucy dandies. They will be bred and inbred and inbred some more, until unpleasant traits develop and destroy their popularity. By that time the once-spunky hunter and swimmer will probably no longer have nerve enough to wave the foolish rosette on the tip of its shaven tail.

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