The topic of breeding, especially when it comes to new designer breeds, is rife with contention and passionate debates. Recently, I engaged in a conversation with a fellow breeder—a reputable AKC breeder, but not of poodles—who shared her surprising encounter at a breeding seminar. The subject was doodles, and she spoke of the breeders there with a certain reverence. They were, in her eyes, knowledgeable, invested in genetic testing, and not the villainous figure many traditional breeders might imagine. This view stirred something in me, and I found myself holding back an all-too-familiar sigh.

Let’s be clear: I’m not one to stir drama on social media. But this topic gnaws at me, especially when it is laced with the sentiment that we should be open to the doodle revolution as if it were the underdog movement of the canine world. It feels like the world is tilting, blurring lines, redefining what we once knew.

First, let’s take a step back and remember where dogs came from. It’s true, God didn’t create dogs—he created wolves. Over millennia, humanity took those majestic creatures and shaped them into beings that could serve our needs: fierce hunters, loyal guards, fluffy lap companions. This grand experiment in selective breeding led us to where we stand today, with over 220 established breeds, each honed for specific attributes, from intelligence and agility to temperament and size. But here’s the overlooked part: thousands of dogs suffered for us to get here. Litters culled, genetic catastrophes discovered only after years of trials, diseases running rampant until diligent breeders rooted them out. We paid the price—dogs paid the price—for our ambitions.

So here’s my dilemma: why isn’t that enough? Why do we need more breeds when we already have such a diverse roster? If you love the doodle’s face, adopt a poodle and groom it that way. If a long-haired retriever catches your eye, go find one. Why must we subject countless litters to genetic roulette for the sake of novelty?

I know what you’re thinking: Money. It’s a powerful motivator, and designer dogs bring in mountains of it. The argument, “You can’t stop evolution,” or the rationale that we must adapt to the times, falls flat when faced with the realities of what’s happening behind the scenes. Designer breeds are sold on the promise of hypoallergenic coats and perfect temperaments. But here’s the harsh truth: doodles, contrary to popular belief, are not non-shedding. They don’t uniformly carry stable temperaments. They are, in fact, the genetic mixing pot where the problems of two breeds intertwine and sometimes amplify. No, there’s no magician’s wand in the breeding world that can select for only the best traits while leaving the undesirable ones behind.

And yes, there are a few diligent breeders who pour their resources into testing, who study pedigrees with fervor, who genuinely want to avoid the mistakes of the past. But here’s where the cynicism cuts in: even these so-called meticulous breeders started on an unethical foundation. Let’s be real—no reputable, decent breeder who has dedicated years to cultivating a line of champion dogs, who has spent time and money on health testing, and who holds their breed to the highest standards would willingly hand over their best representative to be bred to a different breed. It simply doesn’t happen.

Why? Because it goes against the very principles that responsible breeding is built upon. Crossing two breeds, no matter how well-intentioned or well-tested, starts from a place that lacks the core ethics of preserving and strengthening a breed. It’s not about testing; it’s about how you started. And if the foundation is flawed—if you began with practices that a serious, ethical breeder would never consider—then no amount of testing, flashy facilities, or careful marketing can wash away that original sin. Breeding isn’t just about what you do today; it’s about how and why you started in the first place. And when the starting line is a compromise of values, the whole endeavor is tainted.

The issue isn’t just about the good versus the bad breeder. The foundation itself is flawed. The idea that you can take two unrelated breeds and consistently produce healthy, problem-free offspring is dangerously naïve. The genes don’t play by our rules. When you mix two breeds, you’re inviting not just the best attributes of both, but all their inherited faults as well. And no matter how many tests you run or how shiny the breeding facility is, you can’t outwit nature’s dice roll.

Are we truly content to repeat history? To learn nothing from the silent toll paid by generations of dogs? If you ask me, even with all the sophisticated testing, even with breeders who can recite genetic statistics like a holy mantra, the answer is a resounding no. Responsible breeding requires more than a deep wallet and a fancy website; it demands an unwavering commitment to the welfare of dogs over generations, a respect for the creatures we claim to love.

So, forgive me if I don’t jump on the doodle acceptance train. To experiment for the sake of producing ‘the next best thing’ feels hollow, almost callous. Dogs are not accessories to be customized at will. Their health, their lives, should not be the collateral damage of our pursuit for novelty. The true breakthroughs in breeding will come not from creating the next designer trend, but from preserving and protecting the breeds we already have. Because at the end of the day, this isn’t just about genetics or testing—it’s about the ethical line we draw and choose not to cross.

So, now doodles have their own club, right? And what does that mean, exactly? A shiny badge that screams, Look, we’re legitimate now! But here’s the thing: having a club, a representative, some official-sounding group doesn’t mean a damn thing when you actually dive into what they stand for. I read through their policies, every word, and what’s the big focus? Coat color and patterns. Seriously. We’re over here obsessing about how many shades of apricot can exist in one litter, while the fundamentals of breeding are left to gather dust. What happened to high standards? What happened to actually giving a damn about more than just how a dog looks?

This isn’t breeding; this is branding. Clubs are supposed to be the gatekeepers of excellence, ensuring that breeders hold themselves to the highest health standards, ethics, and dedication to the future of the breed. But with doodles, the bar is set so low, it’s practically underground. Coat color and patterns? That’s the focus? Not COI, not health screenings, not multi-generational soundness or behavior stability? Just what shade of trendy fluff will fetch the highest price this season?

It’s like we’ve collectively forgotten what high standards even look like. Real standards go beyond ensuring your dog has a cute, curly coat. Real standards are about producing dogs that are healthy, balanced, and prepared to live long, happy lives—not just for the next photo-op. But here we are, giving out gold stars for novelty and marketing, while actual quality is kicked to the curb. A club might as well be a sticker slapped on for show if it doesn’t stand for anything more than aesthetics.

We’ve gone from breeders being artisans of their craft, guardians of health and legacy, to anyone with two different breeds and a trendy Instagram account calling themselves a pioneer. And we’re supposed to applaud that? No. This is a race to the bottom dressed up in designer coats and catchy names, with clubs acting like a seal of approval for mediocrity.