Does your dog need a DNA test?
After years of not knowing the breed of her mutt, Mojo, Anna Moore decided to do some genetic digging… with surprising results
Our dog Mojo is a mutt, a mongrel, a mash-up. The rescue centre that took her in and passed her on described her as a terrier cross, vaguely guessing: “We think probably Westie cross Jack Russell cross Yorkie.” Like many who have found themselves with a new four-legged member of the family this Christmas, heeding national calls to seek dogs from rescue centres, rather than breeders, this places a large question mark over their providence. What we were told about Mojo wasn’t much, but she looked like the kind of dog we could handle. Not too big, not too small. My dad approvingly described her as the kind of dog William Brown, the scallywag boy from Just William, might own. She seemed just right.
An estimated one million dogs in the UK are mixed breed, and when we got ours two years ago, it wasn’t something we gave much thought. We were too preoccupied with what to feed her and how to keep her off the sofa (as if!) to care who her parents were.
If you take on a rescue, that dog is likely to come with a hidden past. Mojo was thought to be around two years old when we got her and, beyond a few clues, we knew nothing of her origins. When she arrived at the rescue centre, she hadn’t been spayed (our vet thought she’d already had puppies). She’d not seen much of the outside world (for the first few months with us, she barked at everything). She’d probably been kicked (she still flinches if you unwittingly lift a leg). And whoever owned her had a ding-dong doorbell, because when one sounds on the TV, she rushes to our door, despite the fact that we only have a knocker.
At first, the gaps seemed part of the deal. We didn’t know much, but we loved her anyway. But over time, Mojo morphed into a much-loved family member – probably everyone’s favourite – and the more time you lose gazing at a soft, shaggy, four-legged mystery, the more you want to know.
Her breed was one recurring question, and now it can be answered. Following the boom in human DNA testing – for ancestry, for health, for beauty, for dating – dog DNA testing is set to become A Thing.
Wisdom Panel is the current market leader. You buy their kit online (available at wisdompanel.co.uk, or from Amazon, where it’s currently £58.99), roll two swab sticks inside your dog’s cheek and return it to their UK lab. Three weeks later, you’ll receive a detailed breakdown of the breeds that make your dog, plus the most likely family tree, going back three generations.
Though the science was developed about 10 years ago when Wisdom helped finance the sequencing of the entire canine genome, it has taken a while to convince dog owners that they need it. The cause wasn’t helped by less reputable competitors who, unlike Wisdom, ask for photographs of the dog to help them determine its provenance. (Earlier this year, BBC’S Watchdog sent some cat DNA to one such company, along with a dog photo… and the results came back listing the breeds the “dog” most resembled.)
But Wisdom stands by its science. It has completed more than 800,000 tests worldwide and claims to be able to tell what breeds make up a mongrel to an accuracy of between 90 and 97 per cent. In the US, rescue centres use the testing kits to help match owners to breeds, while certain apartment blocks in New York demand DNA results to prove that a pet is on the “approved breeds list”.
Here in the UK, councils have experimented with using dog DNA tests to catch owners who don’t clear up after their pets by analysing “poo prints”. Mostly, though, the boom in interest has come from mixed-breed owners like me, just curious to know more about their pet’s background.
For many of those owners who left five-star reviews on the Amazon website, the Wisdom DNA testing kit merely confirmed what they knew or expected. One reviewer bought a labradoodle, but was constantly asked if his dog was a cockapoo; the test came back 100 per cent labradoodle.
Another bought a chihuahua that grew… and grew. She began to suspect beagle somewhere down the line, but the test revealed a pure chihuahua – just a rather large one.
Within our family, Mojo’s breed has been a constant source of debate, as well as out and about, when strangers enquire about her heritage, before offering their opinion: “Is she a Norfolk?”, “She looks like a Cairn”, “She’s definitely got Border in her…”
She has a shaggy coat, a Yorkie look, but a certain sturdiness, too. If I were being unkind, I might say her body looks a tad too big and square for her dainty legs. Perhaps she was a yorkiepoo, and could proudly take her place in the park with the countless other poodle crosses. From time to time, I’d see a pedigree that looked just like her – a Lucas terrier or a Glen of Imaal – and convince myself she was a secret Crufts
‘Mojo morphed into a much-loved family member – probably everyone’s favourite’
contender. My 16-year-old daughter, born and raised in south London, kept on mentioning Mojo’s “Staffie smile” when you rub her tummy. “I’m sure she has Staffie in her,” she insisted, “no other dogs smile like that.” For two years, I rolled my eyes and ignored her.
So, finally, I bought the test. I swabbed the dog, popped the sticks back in the envelope, sent them off and awaited the results. We expected a lot of terrier – probably Yorkie
– but looked forward to the wild card. Perhaps a smattering of golden retriever or border collie would explain her coat?
To be blunt, the result was a shock. Mojo is 50 per cent Yorkie (wonderful!) and 37 per cent Staffie, the one breed I avoid when we’re out walking. The so-called “yob dog” I’ve always given a wide berth has, all this time, been at the end of my lead.
The remaining 13 per cent was less certain, mixed beyond three generations, but showing evidence from the sighthound and terrier families. All in, quite a mindboggling combination. I don’t imagine it was a love match.
My daughter danced around the kitchen on results day, singing: “I told you!”, while I instructed everyone to keep it quiet when we’re in the park among the designer dogs. I’m sure Mojo had a sheepish look in her eye for the next few days. There she was, trying to pass herself off as a cute little terrier, when hidden beneath her silky coat is a large chunk of Staffie.
It may not be what I wanted to know, but it’s another piece of the puzzle. For the next few days, I read up on both breeds and recognised traits from both. She’s certainly smart and wily. She’s loyal and loving, and has always been great with children – exceptionally tolerant (Staffies are one of three breeds, along with boxers and labradors, that are “particularly suited to families with children”, says the UK Kennel Club).
She’s also fearless. I remember the day a huge huskie appeared at the bottom of our garden and Mojo took off after her as if she were three times the size.
So she’s a “storky”… or a “yaffy”… and I’d definitely recommend them. I’m not sure it’ll catch on as a breed – but I sure love mine!