Evil Breeding

be brushed. Aggressive dogs sometimes sweetened up once hypothyroidism was diagnosed and treated. The pharmaceutical company dutifully listed contraindications, precautions, and adverse reactions, and went on to discuss dosage. The main point was to monitor thyroid levels in the blood and adjust the dosage accordingly. The big risk was thyrotoxicosis, in other words, thyroid poisoning, hyperthyroidism caused by an overdose.
    Fine.But why me? I wasn’t overweight or lethargic, and neither were my dogs. My hair wasn’t styled like Rita’s, but there was nothing pathological about it, and Rowdy and Kimi had beautiful coats. Tracker? Hypothyroidism is common in dogs, both purebreds and mixes, but the characteristic thyroid problem of cats is exactly the opposite, hyperthyroidism. Tracker was not hyperthyroid. If she had been, so what? She was a spayed pet. Furthermore, I’d adopted her recently. Most people didn’t even know I owned a cat. And who cared about my hormones? Steve, of course, but if he’d thought there was something wrong with my libido, he wouldn’t have responded by mailing me a brochure about Soloxine. Besides, I was a dog writer and a dog person. The cryptic message of the Soloxine leaflet simply had to have something to do with dogs.
    Yes, but what? A possibility came to mind. It concerned Rowdy’s and Kimi’s successes in the show ring. As I knew, or in some cases merely suspected, there were exhibitors who administered small doses of thyroid medication in an effort to improve the dogs’ coats. Like many other hairy breeds, Alaskan malamutes “blow coat,” as it’s said, about twice a year; all of a sudden, they shed massive amounts of undercoat and guard hair. Last month’s perfect show dog becomes today’s perfect fright. Furthermore, some dogs simply have showier coats than others, and an alarming number of malamute judges act as if they’re hired to adjudicate at fluffiness contests. Consequently, a dog with a pretty coat and not much else sometimes takes the ribbons and the points from competitors with superior structure and movement. I had never tampered with Kimi’s female hormones to prevent the unhappy effects of her heat cycles on her coat. Not for a million ribbons would I have dosed a dog with any of the toxic coat enhancers thrust down the throats of show dogs: not thyroid medication, not steroids, not human birth-control pills, not arsenic. Arsenic? An old favorite. My dogs’ water gets run through a Brita filter. Meanwhile, I drink what comes straight out of the faucet. If I wouldn’t jeopardize my dogs’ health by giving them tap water, for heaven’s sake, I wasn’t about to fool around with thyroid medication. One of these shows, Kimi would finish her championship, but she was no big threat. Rowdy, however, was serious competition. What’s more, genetic good fortune combined with robust health, excellent veterinary care, an ideal diet, and careful grooming had given him an outstanding stand-off coat. Was a jealous competitor attributing Rowdy’s wins to Soloxine? If so, I couldn’t imagine who.
    A second, remote possibility concerned an agreement I’d made to let Rowdy’s breeder use him at stud. Although the data aren’t absolutely clear, hypothyroidism seems to be especially common in Northern-breed dogs. To complicate matters, there’s disagreement about what should be considered normal thyroid levels in malamutes and their Arctic kin. One Point of almost universal agreement, however, is that no ethical person knowingly uses a hypothyroid dog in breeding. Some people do it, of course. Rowdy’s breeder was not among those people. Neither was I! Rowdy and his proposed mate had both been screened. But had the condition ever occurred in Rowdy’s lines? Yes. Now and then, it cropped up in every malamute line I’d ever heard of, just as it did in other breeds and in random-bred dogs. Even so, maybe someone without the guts to ask direct questions was suggesting that Rowdy should not be bred.
    Once again, I upended the envelope and shook it. Nothing fell out. I tore it fully open. It was completely empty. Nothing linked that leaflet to the death of Christina Motherway.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    I HAD SEEN DOZENS of photos of Geraldine R. Dodge. Three were my favorites. The first showed her with Rin Tin Tin. She and the famous dog faced each other. Their eyes met. Both wore relaxed smiles. He was sitting up, forepaws in the air. She was kneeling. Her right