DNA Testing

Clifford is a very good boy of uncertain parentage. I got Clifford off Craig's List. I was browsing the pet ads on a whim, just seeing what people advertised in the pet ads, and found a listing for a 8-week-old St. Bernard mix puppy, very mellow, good with children and cats. I emailed the poster and she sent me some photos. She said that the mother was a Saint but the father was unknown--mama had gotten out of the yard one day and come back pregnant. I told her I'd meet her the next day to see him.

That night, I stressed. I thought, I do not need a puppy. I worried about my two Persian cats, Jasper and Petey. I worried about what it would do to my free time. I worried he would not have a good life with a single mother who works full time. I basically had myself convinced I did not want or need a dog.

Then fate intervened. As I sat on the couch with my cats worrying, I heard the unmistakable sounds of the ghettobird, or police helicopter, circling my neighborhood. It was shining its light right in my backyard, which is a bit nerve-wracking. I checked all the bushes from my post behind the blinds, and didn't see anyone lurking there. And in addition to the helicopter (which was circling, circling, circling), police cars started whizzing by my house regularly, and the end of the street was blockaded with police cars.

Even for my neighborhood, this was extreme. I went outside and asked the cops what was happening. They said a man had broken into the house of a woman down the street, and hid in her closet. In other words, a scary rapist had invaded my neighbor's house. Her 8-pound chihuahua alerted her than something was wrong, and she got her bear mace and investigated--finding the guy in her closet. She maced him, ran out of the house, and collapsed on her front lawn (she had maced herself in the process). But she got away from the guy. And unfortunately, despite the presence of a million cops who descended on the neighborhood, the guy got away.

And so I decided a dog was an excellent idea.

I met Clifford, who was about as cute as a puppy could be. He slept on my lap next to the steering wheel all the way home.

As Clifford grew up, he looked less and less like a Saint Bernard and frankly, more and more like a pit bull. It was embarrassing; I'd told everyone I had a Saint Bernard mix, and he looked absolutely nothing like one except maybe the coloring, sort of. Finally I caved and spent the $130 to have him DNA tested.

Saint Bernard? Pit bull? Beagle? Negative. The DNA test had found no predominant breed. Instead, it said he had at least 25% American bulldog, 25% boxer, and 25% shar-pei. He looks about as much like a shar-pei as my cats do, but that's what the test said. My vet actually wants to re-test him using a different company to compare results, and I'm all for that.