Make mine a labradoodle

In the past 30 years, this well-mannered crossbreed has stolen our hearts, yet the man responsible has likened it to Frankenstein’s monster. Kate MacDougall finds out more

- Kate MacDougall

SOME things simply go together. Cheese and wine. Fish and chips. Torvill and Dean. The most successful pairings are the ones where each side brings out the best in the other, the combination of two separate entities creating an arguably superior whole.

In the world of dog breeding, the pedigree has always been the pinnacle: the pure bloodline, the refined heritage, the breed standard. Take the labrador—few would dispute its universal appeal and pre-eminence in the canine world. The breed is consistently voted number one in this country and across the world. This is a dog that is so, well, dog-like, that it’s hard to imagine why anyone would want to tamper with it, bar the elimination of any hereditary health concerns.

Yet, a little over three decades ago, when a blind woman in Hawaii was in need of a guide dog that didn’t aggravate her husband’s allergies, the Royal Guide Dog Association of Australia decided to pair a labrador with a standard poodle to solve the problem. It was an unprecedented, but enterprising alchemy that raised more than a few purists’ eyebrows at the time. Service dogs were categorically pedigree, preferably labradors, and this creation was consequently seen as little more than a mutt.

However, the mutt in question, Sultan, not only matched the working and social skills of the labrador, he also retained the intelligence, agility and low-shedding coat of the poodle and turned out to be an exemplary guide dog. He was an outright success and, with the help of judicious rebranding, it wasn’t long before labradoodles became a big hit. They have been climbing the popularity charts ever since, alongside other hybrids such as the cockapoo, puggle, sprocker and schnoodle, thanks to the gradual recognition that two halves can sometimes make an enhanced whole.