The English aren’t entirely to blame for such reprehensible behavior toward other animals. They no more invented blood sport than they can rightly take credit for having conceived of dog breeding, though they did expand upon both traditions through creative innovation. Animal fighting was widely enjoyed by the Romans long before they acquired the taste. The “sport” went back beyond the Greeks and Egyptians. Ancients enjoyed a good goring, and not just bulls and dogs were featured in their public arenas. Like the gladiators who shared these same stages, bears, wildcats, buffaloes, elephants, and animals of all kinds died badly, to the delight of the mob. Like human slaves, it was believed, they were born for the sole purpose of suffering to entertain. In just one day at the Colosseum, over five thousand animals perished in fights with their own kind, or perhaps with other species, as in matches between man and beast. Jews and Muslims were baited in Europe during the Middle Ages, though at a distinct disadvantage. There was never a dull moment at any of these events because their variety gave spice to life.
The English apparently took this very old idea of animal fighting from the Romans, who arrived to occupy them in the first century AD. But the novelty dog they fashioned was their own exciting variation on a canine theme, and since that time the English have become famous for their ability to concoct so many different breeds. Mastiffs had been the preferred prize fighters before bulldogs appeared on the scene. These were the original stars in medieval animal fights, where they were pitted against each other or against bulls, bears, and sometimes lions for the royal games. Victims were often handicapped by having their eyes burned out to give the dogs a slight edge. The legs of bulls were sometimes cut at the hooves, forcing them to stand and defend themselves on bloody stumps. Mastiffs had foreboding faces thought to resemble that of the lion, another national symbol that goes back further than the bulldog. These kingly giants were highly valued but expensive to keep, and replacing them after savaged was problematic for all but the very wealthy. They were decorated with rosettes made of colored fabric before entering the ring, an unsettling prediction of blue ribbons in centuries to come.6
That’s where the bulldog made his entrance. Said to have been born of a mastiff and something else, this was a smaller dog but equally courageous. The upkeep was cheaper, as these dogs were more easily replaced if they fell in the ring or got tossed into the crowd. A more democratic version of the mastiff, the animal was lower to the ground, where he stood a better chance than his noble ancestor of approaching an angry bull. He, too, had a leonine look but was never considered aristocratic. The bulldog was an Everyman’s dog. He wasn’t so much a king’s pride as a butcher’s, which gave him plenty of opportunities for practicing at what he did best and living off merits alone. His master always had on hand a supply of fresh animals waiting to be slaughtered. Poor brutes were tethered in private so the dogs could have a few rounds at them before they were finished off by the butcher’s knife. Seasoned bullfighters went on to win large sums for their owners in the gaming pits. But forcing the dog to work for the honor of victory was not frowned upon, and making these events more interesting attracted higher wagers. To make approaching an angry bull more of a challenge, one match believed to have been fought in the early nineteenth century is said to have tested the dog’s devotion to duty and his singularity of purpose. During the legendary baiting, a gentleman supposedly chopped off one of his dog’s paws to show how tough the animal was. Apparently, the dog kept on going at the bull, and at regular intervals the other three paws were methodically removed, proving this breed would not shy away from a fight no matter what. Here was a natural-born killer. “These dogs were carefully bred by selection,” wrote a historian of the breed. “Beauty and symmetry of form were in no way desirable, the appearance of the dog counted for nothing—courage, power and ferocity for everything.”7
Though mastiffs and, much later, bull terriers were also used for gladiatorial events, the bulldog came to represent bull baiting, a favorite form of entertainment for kings and commoners, an almost sacred ritual that was celebrated for centuries in towns and villages across the land. Evil as the practice would be considered by today’s standards, it once represented quite the opposite. How did this particular breed, before all others, come to be a national symbol? And what kind of Frankenstein would want to manufacture, much less admire, such a ghoulish creation? Perhaps it was believed that witnessing savage performances instilled in Englishmen from all walks of life the virtue of unquestioning self-sacrifice, a tendency that could come in handy when proclaiming wars. Burning, raping, and plundering might be made more palatable to someone who’d attended these mindless displays of carnage. Calculatedly cruel as blood sports were, they could be linked to a sense of national purpose, even imbued with the scent of Christian charity.
One of the most famous annual matches started in a town called Staines near London around 1660. George Staverton, a man of wealth, is said to have seen a butcher’s dogs pursuing a bull in the street, which gave him an idea. In his will, he left the town enough money to buy a fresh bull each year and stage a formal baiting six days before Christmas. Spectators would be charged admittance and the proceeds used to buy shoes and stockings for poor children. Bull baiting, like a more famous public sacrifice once arranged by the Romans, was transformed from a cruel and senseless act of violence into a hallowed annual custom that only a heathen would dare to condemn. Something ugly was made beautiful. Base pleasures were ennobled. Cruelty became kind.8
How on earth did anyone ever get the idea that there was anything cute about these dogs? Probably from the certainty, as soon as they were standardized for dog shows in the nineteenth century, that they were no longer a threat. Crossed with Chinese pugs for the show ring, today’s bulldog has been so thoroughly deformed that it wouldn’t stand a chance against a bull, or anything else for that matter. A curious blend of Victorian sensibility and gothic horror, this is among the most expensive dogs for veterinary care today,9 a fact that hasn’t decreased its popularity.10 On the contrary, like an antique figurine left to collect dust in a tchotchke shop for nearly a century, the bulldog has been shined up and restored to its former glory. The breed made the American Kennel Club’s top-ten list in 2007 for the first time since the 1930s. Little Bobs are more sought after all the time, and they’re being churned out like sausage links (with the help of a surgeon’s cleaver, since virtually all births, again, are of the Cesarean kind). Proud owners can be heard on Manhattan street corners singing the praises of these fashionable retro-dogs, announcing like town criers their legendary past to curious passersby. “Yeah, they took this big, mean bull, you know, and tied it to a stake,” I’ve heard said many times. “The dog would latch onto its snout and suck the life outta the thing.” Bulldogs are celebrations of a bloody past that apparently hasn’t lost its appeal.
For better or worse, Americans have an old, unshakable habit of imitating the English. “Those who once take to the breed,” remarked dog man James Watson, “seem to imbibe something of the holding-on power of the dogs themselves, and it is noticeable in America, perhaps more so than in England, that our staunchest bulldog men have good square jaws and a look displaying character and resolution.”11 Baiting wasn’t banned in New York City slaughterhouses until as late as 1867, although it had been officially frowned upon in England for decades. It was still widely believed that setting dogs loose on animals made the meat tender. Once the legal pursuit of this “sport” was thwarted on both sides of the Atlantic, admirers wanted to keep the dogs that had come to symbolize so much to so many people. Salvaging something civilized from a savage creature became the lifetime goal of many a devoted fan during the second half of the nineteenth century. In time, the English would find a way to keep their national mascot, and unwavering Anglophiles the world over could have as a pet an animal that had outlived its original purpose. When bullfighting was banned in England for humane reasons almost two hundred years ago, the national hero didn’t have a forum. He couldn’t p
erform the task for which he’d been designed. Short of stuffing the breed with sawdust and exhibiting him at the Crystal Palace, there seemed to be no more practical “utility,” as is said of working animals before they’re made into pets. Fans couldn’t imagine a world without their old hero. “They no longer wanted a ferocious brute, whose one idea in life was to attack,” another authority on the breed reminisced in the early twentieth century, “but they wished to retain all the splendid qualities of the dog without its ferocity.”12
The being refashioned during these years has been called “a transition dog.”13 Innovations were needed to keep the crowd’s attention, but repackaging the breed for a more squeamish audience was not as difficult as predicted. What better way to hold back an unwieldy beast, to reform a natural-born killer, than to cripple the monster so that it could barely do anything at all? To preserve bulldogs for posterity, their movement was slowed to a snail’s pace. To suggest strength and vitality where there were none, bulldogs were emasculated, refashioned into caricatures of their former selves.
“It is a case resembling an attempt to convey to someone who has never seen lower Broadway,” wrote Watson, “what that wonderful architectural canyon looks like merely by written description and without an accompanying photograph.”14 Bulldogs became enormous frames without substance, cartoon replicas unable to move very far but quite impressive to look at. As in popular stage melodramas of the nineteenth century, striking faces were essential. “Expression” in the show ring, not performance in the fighting ring, would be the new draw. Specimens born “very plain,” wrote another expert, were devalued and “seldom saw the showbench.” Folds on the forehead were singled out and retrospectively assigned an implausible purpose they most likely never had. Supposed to have served as channels for irrigating the pinned bull’s blood around the dog’s eyes while he held on for dear life, they were further deepened for emphasis. Dog show judges began using expressions like “good wrinkle” and “grand wrinkle”15 to describe the marks of a new kind of champion. Eyes that had once stared into a dying bull’s were made buggier, swelling and reddening to recall the gory scenes of old. The signature under-bite was heightened in vaudevillian style. Among other changes made to suggest what this breed used to do, this apparatus for holding on became the ultimate measure of dramatic effect. “The dog with lack of underjaw loses the proper expression,” it was said of the more perfect specimens, “and in consequence does not show up the other portions of head to advantage—such as the eyes, ears, and skull.”16 The under-bite was further exaggerated, and the more skull, the more exciting. Soon breeders were skull-happy, horrifying some of the older devotees. Had fanciers perhaps gone too far in preserving this stalwart symbol of stoical English resolve? “The skull should be very large—the larger the better—and in circumference should measure (round the front of the ears) at least the height of the dog at the shoulders. . . . No point should be so much in excess of the others as to destroy the general symmetry, make the dog appear deformed, or interfere with its powers of motion.”17
Deformity was in the eye of the beholder. Creating an illusion of mass in the lower jaw meant distracting from other parts of the head. “The craze for dished faces,” recalled Edward Ash, “caused owners to use an appliance to get a shorter upper jaw. They set about it in this manner. When the puppies were quite young and the muscles and bones of the face yet tender, the cords on the middle and two sides of the lips were cut. A small wooden block, hollowed out to fit the face, was then attached, and struck a sharp blow with a mallet. This drove back the cartilage and bone of the nose. Jacks were then attached to hold the face in its new position until the bones and muscles had set.”18 Once the jaw was in place and the face sufficiently flattened, a wooly-coated version of the dog was promptly eliminated in the 1850s, as aficionados began to fight bitterly over what, exactly, the dog must look like and how it should be rated in competitions. Standardization was in order, and a system of points was needed if owners were to vie with each other for prizes. In 1875 the breed was “nearly approaching perfection,” and the Bulldog Club, the oldest of all breed specialty clubs, was founded in England. The object of all this affection was soon recognized by the British Kennel Club and the American Kennel Club. Reformed dog fanciers—which by now meant lovers of a warlike past, but not fighters themselves—would in time subscribe to a set of formal breeding standards to produce animals that were more or less identical with their “broken-looking noses” and “‘broken-back’ appearance, which is very characteristic,” as stern anti-mongrelist Gordon Stables noted approvingly.19
Not everyone agreed on the bulldog’s new construction. “In your next article,” canine chronicler Freeman Lloyd was once advised, “you ask the people if they ever saw an animal made by God with his lower canine teeth protruding outside or beyond the upper teeth.”20 Pushing the limits of common sense and redefining common cruelty, however, it might be said that focusing on exaggerated appearance rather than aggressive performance was a step in the direction of a more humane approach to dogs. Unfortunately, while it was true that the bulldog was no longer allowed to risk his life momentarily for the crowd’s enjoyment, none of this repackaging was innocent or without long-term consequences for the dog himself. In the interest of earning points in the ring, standards for the breeding of animals that were tried and proven for thousands of years had to be lowered. The unnatural compression of the face soon led to breathing problems. The wrinkles in the skin caused infections and made a person wonder how many extra folds a dog really needed to have. The eyes grew so large that they were subject to a number of serious conditions. The chest was expanded to give a greater impression of strength—much like the puffed-up peacock breasts on Bob’s two gay daddies—pushing the front legs so far apart that they became unstable. Thus the “malformation of the legs”21 described nearly a century ago and seen in Bob as he hobbled so endearingly.
“To give it an appearance of great width of chest which it did not possess,” wrote one expert, “various instruments of torture were used.” Puppies were fitted with harnesses “so contrived that two large stuffed leather pads were secured between the fore legs of the dog, spreading them out and causing the unfortunate animal to waddle miserably about the kennel yard instead of enjoying his puppyhood as every puppy has a right to.” Other breeders “placed heavy weights and secured them on the shoulders of the young and growing animal.” The most barbaric method was “to confine the growing puppy in a hutch-like place of which the roof or top was so low that it was never possible for the wretched animal to stand upright.”22 In time, advances in inbreeding would make these instruments of torture obsolete. Mutant characteristics could be brought about more “naturally,” that is, without the aid of hammers, vices, or iron maidens.
“Improvement,” like beauty or deformity, was in the eye of the beholder. As early as 1904, Watson, who served on the AKC’s Stud Book Committee, noted that female bulldogs did not typically like to mate and had to be restrained in the interest of fulfilling a growing demand for the breed. Thus the employment of gruesome “rape racks” that are still in use today. It was also observed, and by that same dependable source, that in the unlikely event that both bitch and pups survived the miracle of birth (aided by surgical means today, once again, due to the narrow hips on the former and the wide skulls on the latter), mothers very often did not want to care for their young.23 Perhaps they knew that the pups were not fit for survival? Or maybe as two dog breeders who left the fancy and wrote SOS Dog: The Purebred Dog Hobby Re-examined suggest, “improved” breeding practices, often in isolation, have deprived many pedigree dogs of the sort of socialization needed for caregiving, and for mating without resorting to rape. Generations of selection for extreme aggression—the kind that would have driven wolves extinct before they had the chance to become dogs—may have left many modern bulldogs incapable of normal behavior, including mating, nurturing, and interacting socially. This has been suggested of their close cousins, bul
l terriers, which as pups can’t typically even play ball with siblings without attacking each other and must be constantly monitored. Females must be muzzled to prevent them from biting or killing their young when they try to suckle. Such are the monstrous results of human meddling.24
Despite the many obstacles to the breed’s continued success, and the countless casualties that mass production of these poor brutes must have entailed, bulldogs remained immensely popular for many years and the market was flooded with them. The new and improved bulldog had one small problem, though, among all the others: he wasn’t agile enough to run. A dog that couldn’t run? And this was considered the mark of a champion! As the practical abilities of the breed were sacrificed for dramatic effect, a walking contest was held in 1893 to determine which specimen most typified the “race” (as a breed was called in English until quite recently and still is in other languages).
A Matter of Breeding Page 3