Statistical Comparison of Results – FCI Championships, 2006 – 2008
The GSD vs. the Malinois
Article and Arithmetic by Yvette Woodward
“My dog is better than your dog”
Although Schutzhund was developed specifically for the GSD as a breeding suitability test, it has expanded into a recreational and competitive sport enjoyed by people from all walks of life and open to all breeds, even mutts. It seems inevitable that folks are prone to making comparisons in performance, drives, and temperament: workingline vs. showline GSD, West German vs. DDR GSD, etc., and even GSD vs. Malinois. Judging from the chatter on the Internet, these debates can become quite inflammatory. When one party asserts that one type or breed is “better” than the other, the fur really begins to fly. However, what is the basis of these judgments? Is it empirical observation, or scientific analysis? Is it possible to remove the subjective bias and make valid comparisons?
Classification and Comparison
It is natural to try to classify different dogs into neat and tidy generalizations, for example, “show dogs are black and red,” or “DDR dogs have big heads,” or “West German workingline dogs are Schutzhund machines.” The fallacy of these generalizations is that it is impossible to avoid exceptions. Just as soon as someone makes a broad proclamation such as, “Czech dogs are sharp,” then folks start crawling out of the wood work with counter examples. Therefore, the classifications must be watered down to be more palatable: “most DDR dogs have dark pigment,” or “most show dogs are calm in the house,” etc. How to make comparisons more valid?
Statistical analysis, if properly applied, can be a useful tool. However, these tools can easily be misused and the results incorrectly interpreted. Many statistics software programs are available that will dutifully spit out “results” regardless if the data set is valid in the first place. Let us compare two working breeds, the GSD and the Malinois, competing head to head in some recent FCI Championships, using statistics as our guide.
Why FCI?
The FCI Championships are open to a variety of pure breed dogs. The “usual suspects” are GSDs, Malinois, Dobermans, Rottweilers, Riesenschnauzers, and even an Airedale or two. Each individual breed has its own breed-specific competitions but at the FCI Championship the breeds are tested on the same field, by the same helpers, and the same judges, and thus provide the best opportunity to compare breed to breed. Right off, this statement contains its own shortcomings. The “same” fields? Even if all participants use the “same” tracking fields, some competitors will track in the morning, perhaps with fresh dew. Other competitors must track in mid-day when the grass is dry and the winds are gusting. The “same” helpers? Some dogs will face a fresh helper, and by the luck of the draw, other dogs will face a fatigued helper at the end of the day. The “same” judges? It is conventional wisdom that in large competitions the scoring of points at the end of the tournament is a bit skewed from the points dolled out on the first dogs on the first day.
Unfortunately, this is as good as it gets for statistical analysis. When comparing breeds, the natural inclination is to use the results from the breed-specific championships, for example, BSP vs. FMBB to compare the “best” GSDs vs. the “best” Malinois. However, to compare these results is guaranteed to be a wild goose chase. Different fields, different judges, different helpers, nothing at all in common! At least at the FCI, if the draws are randomly distributed, Malinois and GSD alike will have the same probability of getting the ideal conditions for all phases. With a large number of dogs of both breeds represented, the results should even out, both “lucky” and “unlucky” draws alike. That being said, only the GSD and the Malinois are present in sufficient numbers to make a comparison of performance by breed.
Statistics for Schutzhunders
Resist the temptation to jump straight to the graphs in this article. Oops, too late – you already peeked. The graphs in this article are called “box plots” and communicate a lot of information visually. Instead of staring at a table of numbers with glazed eyes, these pictorial representations of the data better allow us to visualize the results. An explanation of the components:
· The number by the “bull’s eye” mark is the “median” result. This is not the “average” score because the mathematical average is skewed by outliers, that is, a handful of results at the extreme low end of the scale.
· The “box” shows the range of the middle “half” of the scores.
· The “whiskers” are the vertical lines above and below the box that show the top and bottom quartile (top 25% and bottom 25%) of the scores
· The asterisks show “outliers,” scores that are unusually low and not characteristic of the data set as a whole. Each asterisk represents one dog’s score and possibly one stool at the bar that evening occupied by a despondent handler.
So what does this graph mean? At the 2008 FCI Championship, the Malinois racked up a higher median score than the GSDs, a median of 272 total points for the Malinois vs. 259 for the GSDs. How did this happen?
A comparison of scores within each phase shows that the Malinois scored higher median points in obedience and protection phases than the GSDs. However, although the Malinois scored a higher median score in tracking, this difference between the breeds is not statistically significant. English translation… tracking scores were highly variable in both breeds, so much so that it is not possible to say that the median value of 93 points earned by the Malinois is really higher than the 92 points earned by the GSDs. Another way of thinking about it is that, yes, there is a difference in scores, but it does not really mean anything.
Is your head spinning yet? Just wait… it gets worse when looking at results from the 2007 FCI Championship.
In 2007, the Malinois again scored a higher median total score, but the difference between breeds is not statistically significant, despite the fact that the Malinois were more consistent in their performance as seen in the tighter “box” and shorter “whiskers.” How this be so?
Comparing the scores in the three phases shows that the Malinois earned slightly higher median scores in all phases, but only in protection is this difference “real.” Nevertheless, despite these higher median values, overall the difference between breeds turned out to be not a valid distinction.
Take a deep breath and pour another cup of coffee… one more to go…
In 2006, at the FCI Championship, the Malinois as a group again managed to outscore the GSDs. What happened in this year?
Comparing results by phase, the scores by breed are statistically indistinguishable from one another. It is a fascinating statistical puzzle… how one breed can outscore another in total points without any discernable difference in the individual phases.
“So what’s the point already?!?”
Firstly, I hope that it has been demonstrated how complicated it is to make valid comparisons, and how easy to misinterpret the results. Even using the objective analysis of statistics can produce baffling results. Clearly, the “average Joe” cross-posting statistical psycho-babble across the message boards of the Internet is probably introducing errors and possibly outright manipulating the numbers to support fore-drawn conclusions.
How shall we interpret these results? Is the Malinois a “better” breed than the GSD? No. Is the Malinois a stronger protection dog or a more willing worker in obedience? Possibly, but that cannot be definitively proven with this data.
What then shall we conclude from this analysis? The real value of data analysis is how we use the information, not in the generation of pretty charts and graphs. For many years, the GSD has enjoyed the reputation as the “best” overall utilitarian working breed and the GSD has often been the breed of choice for service and sport dogs alike. However, the Malinois is becoming increasingly popular as a performance breed and threatening the notion that the GSD is “as good as gets” for working dog breeds.
It is in fact irrelevant whether or not the Malinois actually is a “better” working breed because “perception is reality.” If top sport dog handlers and service dog trainers alike choose to use the Malinois and cultivate the breed through selective breeding and training, it will become a “self-filling prophecy” regardless of the alleged facts to the contrary.
As GSD lovers and Schutzhund enthusiasts, the take home message is a challenge to ourselves to preserve the working heritage of the breed we know and love, and to protect the perception that the GSD is a working dog second to none. The perception of the Malinois (at the risk of making generalizations) is that the breed has less health problems than the GSD, has a longer working career, and costs less too. Arguing the “facts” will not win the day. Instead, we should focus our efforts on improving the GSD: breeding for health and longevity and not just flashy performances and points, and yes, keeping puppy prices affordable. With these goals in mind, we can work together to keep the GSD “on top!”
Note from the author: The Malinois is indeed better than the GSD in some aspects. For example, my husband’s Malinois is indeed superior to my own GSD in flatulence. I have boxplots of potency and duration available for interested parties.
Chat room rules Part 2
1) Always validate the identity of your opponent. After you’ve already sent a scathing criticism to “AlabamaHeeHaw57” it’s a wee bit late to discover that’s one of Gary Hanrahan’s screen names, and the “57” refers to the number of dogs he’s titled with one arm tied behind his back.
2) Never assume you’ve “won” because your opponent is silent. Although it may please you to believe that your opponent has been cowed into silence after reading your latest flaming post, curled up the fetal position sobbing, “How could I have been so wrong?!?”, it’s much more likely they have simply gotten bored and wandered off.
3) Life is not a popularity contest. Even if you’ve got a dozen of your buddies to chime in on your thread to shout down your opponent, doesn’t make you right or necessarily validate your baseless accusations. Just because a million medieval Europeans believed the Earth is flat, doesn’t make it so.
4) Spell check is not your friend. It really sucks when you think you’re ripping your opponent with a phrase like, “You’ve got a lot of gaul to say…” only to find out that Gaul is an ancient Roman province.
5) Never assume your opponent really cares about what you have to say. For starters, check your opponent’s posting habits… if most of the posts hit the board Monday through Friday, between 8 AM and 5 PM EST, it’s possible that your opponent is posting to kill time at work while stuck in really boring teleconferences, while the guys on the Sales team drone on and on about that same stupid golf story they’ve told a thousand times.
5b) Don’t check your opponent’s posting habits if you even think they draw a salary in corporate America. Once you find out they are getting paid a fat salary while posting insightful comments like, “Nice dog you’ve got there, Sparky,” you’ll really be pissed.
6) Always list your email address so that your opponent can email you “privately.” Some of your opponents may not realize that there’s nothing “private” about PM’s and that email is forever. If you’re lucky, your opponent will get so ticked off they will spew their verbal diarrhea in writing. Print out a copy of the screen captures and emails, gather an audience, and read your opponent’s hate mail out loud for a good laugh. Use tone of voice and theatrical gestures to enhance the effect.
6b) Unfortunately Corollary #6 works both ways (see Corollary #8).
7) “Spam guard” is your friend. Not only will this handy feature filter out unwanted Viagra ads, it will also tidy up your Inbox from your opponent’s “private” attacks (see Corollary #6). It’s really funny to check your “junk mail” folder once a week and find an aging piece of flame mail. Pause for a moment before hitting the delete button and consider that whatever time your nemesis spent crafting that stink bomb was a complete waste.
Trading Places
Changing Places, the Schutzhund Edition -
Reality Shows have gone to the dogs
Fictitious article by Yvette Woodward
Week 1 – Introductions
“Are you sure you both understand the rules?” asked the judge. At first there was no sound from the small circle of Schutzhund enthusiasts clustered around him, only an awkward scuffling of feet on the dry training field. Donnie was the first to speak, “Yeah I get it. I hand over my working dog to this lady. She gives me her show dog. I handle her dog in the upcoming conformation show. She campaigns my dog at the next trial. Six weeks later, a hundred pounds of Coyal Ranin dog food shows up on my front porch.”
One of Becky’s friends leaned in and whispered in her ear, “Did you hear how he said ‘campaign’ his dog, like it was some big deal. What a blowhard.” Becky said nothing at first, but tightened her grip on the leash. Lying at her feet, Tiberius von Bartlett Pear lay panting on the grass, oblivious to his handler’s anxiety. At last she spoke to the judge, “Yes sir, I understand the rules of the contest. In six weeks I will go to trial with his female and show for SchH3. In exchange for participation in this ‘reality show’ I will get one hundred pounds of Coyal Ranin, Tiber’s favorite food.”
Donnie rolled his eyes at the glib remark then cast a glance at his little sable GSD, Gabby vom Damonblut, sitting smartly at his side. As usual, drool was dripping off her left canine tooth, a sign that she was betting she would get a chance to taste jute soon. With a sigh he handed the leash across to Becky and then, quite involuntarily, he smirked at the thought of Gabby dragging “Little Miss Show Lady” down the field during Protection training.
Becky smiled a little too eagerly in an attempt to hide her own dismal forebodings and thrust her leash toward Donnie. As he took it in hand, Becky’s already tight smile stretched even tighter over her perfectly white front teeth and she narrowed her eyes as she thought to herself, “Just wait till this joker has to learn how to gait with my dog. He won’t make it three times around the ring before he has to stop and take a breather.”
The leashes changed hands and Donnie gave a sharp tug on the line to roust Tiber and the big red and black dog stirred from his rest. Becky frowned disapprovingly then turned smoothly and made tried to make show of walking briskly away. However, Gabby had other ideas. The spry dog leapt in the air and began her characteristic whining and pulling as she watched her handler trudge away to the truck without her. Becky tugged hard, harder than she intended, but Gabby just sneezed and finally came along.
Donnie loaded up the big show dog into the XL crate in the back of his truck. He had to borrow the oversized crate from a training friend with a massive dog line bred on Ingo vom Kiksumbut. Donnie’s club mate Jennifer was at his side while he locked the crate door and she quipped, “I can’t believe you signed up for this, Donnie, I mean look at the size of that thing. No way can that big fluffy dog run around and around that circle all day.”
“Kennel up,” barked Becky, but the little female stood her ground stubbornly behind the mini-van. “Are you sure he didn’t use Slovakian commands?” asked Mark, as he stood supportively by his friend’s side. Becky ignored him, and finally reached in her bait pouch and grabbed a liver treat. Gabby’s amber eyes brightened. “Just look at those light eyes,” continued Mark, “don’t those sport guys care at all about the standard?” Still silent, Becky tossed the treat into the crate but then gasped as Gabby sprang forward so fast the whole crate slid a few inches.
Donnie and Becky both paused and turned to lock eyes across the field, as if they both had the same thought on their minds…
“You wait and see. This stuff isn’t as easy as you think. You will finally learn some respect for what we do.”
Week 2 – Trials and Tribulations
Sweat rolled off Donnie’s brow and he hoped no one could hear him wheezing. He was jogging in a clumsy cadence, trying to keep up with Tiber as he trotted around the make-shift conformation ring thrown together by his club. Donnie blinked the sweat out of his eyes and stared in disbelief at the flashy male pulling hard and steady into the fur saver ahead of him. With a fluid grace that belied his size, Tiber was trotting effortlessly despite the mid-day heat, his furry tail waving back in forth in tune to his rhythmic stride.
“Look at him prancing,” thought Donnie as he lumbered behind the dog, “and with dang tail waving like a flag. He thinks he’s hot stuff does he, well wait until Bobby puts the sleeve on and then we’ll see… Ooof!” With a thud Donnie hit the ground, dropping the leash and sprawling face first in the mud. “Donnie! Donnie! Are you OK?” cried the voices around him. Spitting mud from between his teeth, Donnie slowly picked himself up and glared malevolently at Tiber who was now staring at him, head cocked to the side, with a quizzical look on his face. “I tripped, OK?” bellowed Donnie to no one in particular, “I tripped on my own @%&# feet, OK? I’m fine! Fine!”
Jennifer sipped her coffee slowly from outside the ring and watched her club mate pick himself up and lurch forward to pick up the leash while the show dog began to wag his fluffy tail in anticipation of another pass around the ring. “This is not going to work,” Bobby said quietly as he laid a hand on her shoulder. Jennifer took another long slow sip and sarcastically replied, “What? The dog won’t work? Well duh! They don’t call them show dogs for nothing.” Bobby jerked his hand away and snapped back, “That’s not what I meant. The dog can “work.” He did fine this morning in the blind. I’m talking about Donnie.”
At this remark both training partners fixed their eyes on their friend as he gimped along behind the black and red stallion, whose stamina was proving to be surprisingly resilient as he continued to drag the sweating man on and on. “Well, at least he looks good while doing it,” said Bobby. Jennifer winced, as she knew perfectly well their club helper was talking about the dog.
Week 3 – Overdrive
“Stop jamming her,” yelled Becky, “You’re going to chip a tooth if you keep catching her like that!” Becky shot Mark an ugly look as she recovered her end of the leash and Gabby spit out the sleeve with her characteristic ‘automatic out.’ A thin film of drool covered every tooth in her mouth and a little droplet was already forming on her upper left canine as she stared fixated on the helper.
Mark muttered something under his breath and barely got the sleeve up in time to intercept Gabby’s jaws. At the first twitch of his own lips Mark had seen the little dog’s eyes widen and he realized she was coming up for another grip. As he slipped the sleeve he snapped back at Becky, “Hey get off my case! It’s not my fault! Did you see how fast she moves? She’s like one of those crazy Malinoids.”
“Ma-li-NWAH,” spat back Becky as she brought the little sable around for another go. “Mali-NWAH. You know that those KNPV guys mixed in the Malinois into their German Shepherds to get that crazy drive and that crazy grip. Where else could it be coming from?” She scowled at Mark while Gabby spit out the sleeve now covered in a fresh coat of slobber.
She continued her tirade, “And who the heck names their kennel ‘Damonblut’ anyway? That’s like… ‘Demon blood’ in German, right?” If Mark had any response it wasn’t possible to hear because as soon as Mark donned the sleeve again Gabby lunged at the end of the line and an ear-splitting high-pitched squealing bark was all that Becky could hear.
Week 4 – Learning the Ropes
“You’re doing it wrong,” came a whiny voice from behind Donnie, as Jennifer could no longer contain her irritation, “The leg facing the judge is supposed to be pulled back, not the other one.” Donnie swore quietly under his breath and grasped Tiber’s right hind leg and jerked it back with more force than was necessary. He marveled at how patiently the big dog stood while being stacked, panting quietly as Donnie fumbled with his legs. “It’s like he’s done this a thousand times before,” thought Donnie, “My Gabby would be spinning in circles by now.”
As if Tiber sensed his amateurish new handler’s thoughts, the dog turned his regal head sideways just long enough to cast a dark eye on Donnie’s red face before facing forward again, holding his broad head even higher. Now it was Donnie’s turn to whine, “Jen, I think the dog is laughing at me.”
Week 5 – What Obedience?
“Here she comes!” yelled Mark from the sidelines as Gabby rocketed down the field on the recall. Becky stood frozen, the word “hier” was barely off her lips before the fast little female was already bearing down on her. With a dull thud Gabby banged into Becky like a freight train in miniature. With a cough and a dirty look towards Mark, Becky straightened herself again and with an involuntary gesture she smoothed the wrinkles on her blouse left by Gabby’s lower jaw.
“This is so not working,” Becky thought, “This stupid little coyote dog is going to knock me over on trial day. I know she will!” She locked eyes with the dog, and Gabby began to lean to the left, anticipating the command to finish. “Does she ever stop drooling like that?” wondered Becky, “That is so gross.”
As she gave the heel command, Becky was startled by how fast Gabby snapped into place at her left side, panting fast and soft, glancing from Becky’s face to her right arm, knowing the right arm, not the left, would bring the ball-on-a-string out of the pocket with this new handler. Becky tried to reach subtlety into her vest and groped for the ball. Gabby’s eyes widened, and a drop of saliva fell from her upper left canine tooth. “Does this dog notice every little move I make?” wondered Becky, “She is so… eager, so responsive, so…”
Becky’s thoughts were broken off as Gabby exploded from the sit, the slight involuntary movement of Becky’s hand looked well enough like permission to release. Becky gasped and pulled her hand out of the way just in time and Gabby’s jaws clicked shut in thin air for an instant before the dog dove to the ground and snatched up the ball that Becky had just dropped. As the dog ran in tight circles around Becky she began gleefully chewing on the toy, as she had learned she could get away with this now with this handler. She ignored her new handler’s wail of dismay, “This is SO not going to work!”
Week 6 – Show time!
Donnie fidgeted nervously with Tiber’s show collar, adjusting it again as he had just done thirty seconds prior. The handsome dog stood quietly and his ears pricked up to the familiar noise of the conformation show. Donnie almost jumped out of his skin when Jennifer slapped a hand on his back unexpectedly with a cheerful greeting, “You about ready, Donnie? The Male Working Dog Class is up next!” “Geez Jen!” he shot back, “never just sneak up behind me like that! Do you want to get bit?!?” They both dropped their eyes at the same time to Tiber, who stood as affably still as ever, clearly neither startled nor excited by Jennifer’s sudden appearance.
“Relax, Donnie, that’s not your Gabby at your side. I’m safe,” said Jennifer as she started to walk away. “That’s not funny, Jen,” Donnie shot back, “and what if he bites the judge during the denting check?” Jennifer’s voice trailed off, “It’s dentition, you dummy, den-ti-SHUN. It means ‘teeth’ and you should be familiar enough with those...” “Stop hassling me,” Donnie fired back, “and get into position at the far corner like we practiced at club. Do you have the cow bell? Becky says he likes the cow bell best. Are you listening to me, Jennifer?!?”
Same time, different field, and a world apart…
“Oh please oh please stay clean in the blind,” muttered Becky to herself as she stood rigidly on the centerline of the trial field. The sound of Gabby’s squealing bark prevented the judge from noticing Becky’s soft but desperate plea. Involuntarily, Becky reached down and tried to smooth the wrinkles on her blouse.
The morning had started surprisingly well with 85 points in Tracking. Although Becky had been still groggy in the early dawn, as soon as Gabby was hooked up to the tracking line her whole body went rigid and her light brown eyes narrowed to slits as her nostrils flared. Only a bit of hectic circling at the corners and fidgeting at the articles stopped the team from achieving a perfect score.
Obedience had been successful but disappointing, with only 73 points earned. Although Donnie had promised her that Gabby never chews the dumbbell, the dog acted like a crack addict instead, her mouth chattering during the whole routine, banging into Becky’s leg during the heeling exercises, running around her in circles with the dumbbell, and fidgeting restlessly on the long down the whole time. Becky gingerly touched the sore spot on her stomach that Gabby had used as a deceleration device during the recalls.
Finally the judge motioned for Becky to come to the blind and Becky felt her anticipation rising with each step. It was true that Gabby always scored “V” in Protection. What would she say to Donnie if she couldn’t get the dog to “out” this time?
Back in the conformation ring…
Tiber glided ahead of Donnie with his head high and furry tail waving in pace with his gaiting. Donnie was feeling confident that his dog… that is… Becky’s dog… could make it to the head of his class. The clanging of a cow bell in the distance caused Tiber to pick up his head at the familiar sound, and his expression lit up even more brightly than before. Donnie looked in admiration at the big male gaiting perfectly ahead of him, still going strong while the some of the other males were showing signs of fatigue. “That is one beautiful dog,” he thought to himself, and then he jerked his head to the side, scanning the crowd for familiar eyes and feeling guilty for his traitorous thoughts.
On the trial field…
“Get off the field or I’ll send my dog,” yelled Becky, loudly but without conviction as she realized she wasn’t sure if handlers are supposed to yell that during the courage test, or if just the helper was allowed to yell as he ran down the field. Gabby was still technically in a sit position at her surrogate handler’s side but every muscle in the dog’s body was vibrating and the white rims of her eyes flashed brightly in the afternoon sun.
While Becky hesitated, her hold slackened on the fur saver and Gabby felt the change in tension and sprang into motion with a guttural growl. In a flash the dog was down field and the spectators held their breath as she launched airborne at the helper. After a nimble side step and a spin to the right, the helper caught the speeding sable and Gabby’s legs were spinning in the air, jaws firmly latched on the sleeve cover. While the crowd burst into applause Becky thought to herself, “Wow! Look at my dog…” Her train of thought halted. “Not my dog,” she mumbled audibly, “Not my dog.”
Sportsmanship – Easier said than done
“What do you mean V4?” snapped Donnie, “Tiber is clearly better than that V2 dog and let me tell you about the crappy head on….” With the clang of a cow bell hitting the ground not far to his right, Donnie cut short his rant and he glanced towards the source of the discordant sound. Jennifer glared steamily at him and began to mouth out words as a signal to her SchH buddy. “Oh great,” thought Donnie, “I always sucked at reading lips. Uhhhh… Spore. Man. Ship. What the heck?!? Ohhhhh.” Donnie sheepishly cast his eyes at his muddy shoes and his cheeks reddened with chagrin. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.
Oh to be SchH 3!
Gabby was still panting hard while Becky stood numbly listening to the judge’s critique. It had all happened so fast – the details of the routine from the judge’s critique blurred into one bright moment on the field in Becky’s memory. Images flashed in her mind like random snapshots: Gabby streaking across the field in a all-out run during the blind search, the sweat glistening on the helper’s forehead as Gabby jumped rhythmically and covered his face with her hot breath during the guarding, the blur of motion during the back transport as the helper barely had swung around when Gabby was already airborne and ready to meet him… “97 points, Excellent, and clearly… Pronounced,” came a voice that sounded far, far away.
All’s well that ends well
The morning dew glistened on the grass as a familiar gathering of Schutzhund enthusiasts clustered tightly and their excited voices carried across the field. The battered pickup with an XL crate and a torn “Run Fast Bite Hard” bumper sticker looked out of place parked next to the freshly waxed mini-van with “Team Bartlett Pear” stenciled neatly on the professionally tinted windows. A rag-tag group of working dog trainers mingled easily with the smartly dressed show dog handlers, all in their matching blazers. Laughter rang out merrily as Donnie and Becky exchanged their most embarrassing training moments from the last six weeks. The two helpers Bobby and Mark flexed their biceps and took turns bragging about who did the hardest work while everyone giggled at their feigned bravado. The sun rose high on a new day, over new friendships, and new-found respect for all.
sharp cookie
I’ve often wondered why some people want “sharp” dogs, and then I realized it’s probably because I don’t know what a sharp dog really is. Luckily, I’ve got access to the Internet, that vast and boundless fount of knowledge, and if it’s posted on the Internet it must be true. Maybe my dogs are sharp, and I just didn’t know it… like when you stick your hand in the dishwasher to grab a knife, and then next thing you’re standing there bleeding thinking, “Well that was dumb.”
But then I got to thinking, what if “sharp” means sharp like smart and clever sharp? I think my young GSD is “sharp”, so I decided to see how he would take to reading the Classics – you know, those hallowed magnum opuses of literature written by people with weird names like Tolstoy and Shakespeare and Nee-chee. I brought home a whole stack of these books and let me tell you – he devoured them! Every work by every obtuse, existential, pompous author – he ate it all up.
But then I got to thinking, what if “sharp” means sharp like pointy stick sharp? In that case I think my husband’s Malinois is sharp. She’s got this pointy little head with a long tapering muzzle and she uses it like a pry bar to wedge her teeth into impossibly small places. We bought her a Jolly ball a few weeks ago, a device designed specifically to torture dogs. It has a soft rubber ball inside a hard plastic outer ball with holes large enough stick a paw in, but not large enough to extract the inner ball. For some reason the inner ball is evil and must be punished, and our dogs know this instinctively with all their protection training and all that. They know a threat when they see one. My young GSD has been fighting for weeks to kill the evil inner ball, without success. Our sharp Malinois, on the other hand, making use of her sharpness, aka tweezer head, managed to trap the inner ball with one paw while inserting her muzzle up through the holes designed to accommodate big GSD paws, and surgically extracted the inner ball. Man, she’s sharp!
Unfortunately, Webster’s has more definitions for “sharp” then I thought possible. What about a “sharp” pain, or a “sharp” temper, or a “sharp” rebuke? In that case, I’m “sharp” too. I got to thinking about the time I threw the dumbbell over the jump and when my dog sprang after it I failed to notice the long line wrapped around my leg. A millisecond later, a sharp pain was followed by a flare-up of a sharp temper and caused a sharp rebuke that sounded an awful lot like, “Bhlork!”
But wait! There’s more! Come to find out, my husband is “sharp” too, being that one day when his Malinois came charging back at him with ball in mouth, he made a sharp cry as the Malinois threw herself at him, paws outstretched aimed a “soft spot” destined to cushion the impact. It doesn’t take a Music major to recognize the sound of a man singing in “A sharp” while curled in the fetal position.
Honestly, though, I still just don’t get it why someone would want to own a sharp dog. What if you trip while running the dog with the sleeve? It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.
Create a free website at Webs.com