The results of my dog’s DNA test are in.  I’m not the father.  Don’t panic, neither are you. 

Dog DNA tests have grown in popularity as dog owners yearn to learn, for one reason or another, the ancestral roots of their four legged friends.  I don’t know why I did it.  I suppose I was just curious when I laid down $100 for the kit.  When I adopted Pumpernickel,  I was told she was a Lab-retriever and hound.  I never questioned the label but recently began to wonder whether there were other breeds in her lineage.  She could be part German shepard, I told myself.

I had to get the truth.  I ordered the test kit,  gingerly handled the swab that would gather the DNA from my dog’s mouth,  awkwardly rolled the swab inside her mouth as she probably wondered if this was a new kind of game,  and then carefully returned the swab to its plastic bag to avoid contamination.  I mailed it back to the lab and waited.  After a month of wondering,  I received an envelope in the mail this week.  

This was the moment of truth.  You could feel the tension in the air.  It was like one of those Maury Povich shows.  Pumpernickel sat down in front of me.  She clearly sensed the gravity of the situation.  I opened the envelope,  unfolded the letter and began to read aloud.  I was stunned.  There were three categories.  Primary breed,  secondary breed and “In the mix”.  Turns out, Pumpernickel has no primary or secondary breeds in her but is extremely mixed up.  I never would’ve guessed that she was part Shetland sheepdog,  part Collie and part beagle. 

“Sheepdog?”,  I said to her.   ”You’re part sheepdog?”   Her ears perked up.  I was floored.  I don’t know that I believe the test results.  I’m seriously considering testing her again.  Of course, it would  have to be with a different company.  I’d have to do all kinds of research to find the most qualified dog DNA lab in the world.  Money would be no object. The truth was the most important thing here. 

I know what you’re thinking : This is all so stupid.  There’s no reason I need to know my dog’s heritage.  And you may be right. But I’ve been sucked into a strange and mysterious world of kibbles, swabs and doggie DNA—-and there’s no turning back now. 

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