And here's a share that I'm putting here because I want to be clear that I know that there are many many breeders that I think are doing all they can and then some. It takes a ton of effort to do things right and things still fall apart. Please know that when I seem endlessly critical that I'm very aware that there are some gems out there and for them I'm grateful.
So with Ms. Starrys words, I'll leave this reminder to myself:
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The Blood, Sweat, and Tears of a True Breeder
It’s never just about puppies.
Anyone from the outside sees a litter of beautiful puppies and thinks — how lucky. How easy. How wonderful it must be to be surrounded by puppies all day.
They don't see what came before.
Blood
A true breeder bleeds for their breed.
They bleed money — and anyone who has ever done it right knows you never, ever make money doing it right. The health testing. OFA hips and elbows, cardiac, heart, eyes. The stud fee to the right dog three states away, not the convenient one down the road. The emergency C-section at 2 a.m. on a Sunday that costs $4,000 and still doesn't guarantee everyone makes it.
They bleed from the heart. They keep the dog that will never be bred because she didn't pass her health clearances, but she's family now. They place the perfect show puppy in a pet home because that pet home is where he will be happiest. They say goodbye to the old foundation bitch at 13, who built their whole program, and bury a piece of their soul with her.
And sometimes, they literally bleed. Whelping boxes, toenails, teeth, long nights on the floor.
Sweat
There is no day off. There is no vacation without a detailed, 3-page care sheet and 10 check-in calls.
It's the sweat of stacking a squirmy 6-month-old puppy for the hundredth time so he learns to stand right. The sweat of grooming, training, socializing, driving 8 hours to a show to not win, and driving 8 hours home.
It's working a full-time job, and then coming home to your second, unpaid full-time job because you love a breed enough to try to preserve it.
A true breeder is up every two hours with a weak puppy, tube feeding, willing that tiny life to live. They are on their knees scrubbing a whelping box at 3 a.m. They are researching pedigrees until their eyes cross — not for what will sell, but for what will complement, what will improve, what will last.
Tears
Oh, the tears.
Tears of joy when that ultrasound shows heartbeats. When a puppy you bred wins his first point. When you get a photo from a family five years later and that dog is still sleeping on their kid's bed every night.
And tears that crush you.
The puppy that doesn't make it no matter how hard you tried. The beloved bitch you lose on the table. The perfect breeding that didn't take. The person you trusted with one of your babies who lets you down. The Facebook comment from someone who has never bred a litter in their life telling you that you're part of the problem, while you're the one staying up all night trying to fix it.
A true breeder cries in private so their kids and their dogs don't worry. Then they wipe their face and go check on the litter again.
A true breeder is not a puppy factory. A puppy factory never cries. A puppy factory never loses money. A puppy factory never keeps a dog that doesn't make them money.
A true breeder is a preservationist. A historian. A nurse, a janitor, a trainer, a geneticist, a counselor to puppy buyers at 11 p.m. when the puppy has diarrhea.
If you are lucky enough to get a puppy from a true breeder — wait for it. Respect the process. The questionnaire, the interview, the contract that says the dog comes back to them no matter what, no matter when, for its whole life.
Because that contract isn't about control. It's about love.
That puppy you hold in your arms? That puppy cost someone blood, sweat, and tears long before it ever reached yours.