Dogs in advertising

 

Dogs in advertising

When an appealing dog is used to advertise a service or a commodity, public demand for that breed increases, often to its detriment. There are many respected and responsible breeders for whom health and temperament of the animals they breed are the first of their considerations, and those two are frequently co-dependent, but when a breed becomes popular, it attracts unscrupulous people seeking to make money.

Greedy breeders breed indiscriminately and far too frequently, with little thought for the health of the brood bitches or their resultant litters. The puppies are sold to anyone who expresses a wish to pay for one without regard to the future living conditions of the dog or the suitability of the owners to care properly for them. Too many puppies are given up or thrown away when they grow out of the puppy stage or chew one too many chair legs, or growl at the children because the children have not been taught how to behave with animals.

We have always been interviewed for any animal we have wanted to acquire and that applies to animal shelters, too. When we, in a very small way, bred Burmese cats, we were always very careful about who they went to. One woman got quite snooty with me because I refused to let my kittens go around Christmas, quite the worst time of year for a young animal to go to its new home.

Pug

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

English bulldog

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Currently, it’s brachycephalic dogs that are causing concern. They are ‘cute-looking’, I’m told. For example, pugs have huge eyes that remind some people of babies. I’m sure there are responsible breeders of these dogs, but in the wrong hands, their inherent breathing problems will be exacerbated and their health and behaviour affected. The Royal Veterinary College (RVC) says:

"There is a real concern that the use of French Bulldogs, Bulldogs and Pugs in adverts is fuelling the popularity of these breeds, and is widening the market for those who simply wish to make money from these dogs with little or no regard for their health and wellbeing.   “These breeds can suffer from some horrible long-term health conditions . . . we are currently fighting a losing battle while these dogs continue to be used needlessly in thoughtless advertising. We are heading towards a welfare crisis for these breeds so it is time for companies to prioritise dog welfare over profit and commit to avoiding the use of flat faced dog breeds in advertising.  Not only will this make a real difference to the health and welfare of these dogs but it will help to protect the companies from brand damage and make it clear that they take their corporate social responsibility seriously.”  

Breeds that have suffered or may suffer in future because of advertising or exposure in film or television programmes, include the Old English Sheepdog, Dalmatian, Basset hound, Dachshund, the ‘doodle’ breeds (those breeds crossed with poodles, like Goldendoodle, Maltipoo, Cockapoo, of which there are currently 40 different mixes)

I wonder whether companies will, as the RVC hopes, ‘take their corporate social responsibility seriously’. My feeling, cynic that I am, is that they will move onto something else to capture the public’s imagination, a wolf hybrid, perhaps.

Would a tarantula or a scorpion excite the same acquisitive reaction? Possibly. The owl in the Harry Potter films generated a desire in children to have their very own owl, so an expertly photographed and photogenic chamaeleon or poison dart frog would probably appeal, too.  

In the wee small hours

 

In the wee small hours

Damp leaves . . . be careful of the sweet chestnut husks . . . they're still sharp

Gilbert usually sleeps through the night, waking around 6:00 a.m. We are very grateful for that.

On Saturday night, well, Sunday morning, really, he woke at 3:00 and he and I stumbled downstairs while the Lord and Master snored on, accompanied by Roxy and Herschel. It’s quite a chorus when they all participate.

A lesson from Roxy in how to whittle

I say ‘stumbled’ but that’s not strictly accurate. Gilbert is keen to race ahead, but isn’t allowed to. I concentrate on not tripping over him or my feet or anything that might present itself on the stairs, like Jellicoe, always alert for food and assuming that if someone is awake, it might conceivably mean a meal is in the offing.

Anyway, Gilbert trotted into the garden, did what he had to, came back in and refilled his tanks from the water bucket. We then went back upstairs. All was as we had left it, everyone sleeping peacefully. After a bit of ‘bitey’ from Gilbert, something he does when he’s tired, and easily remedied with a chew toy, rather like a dummy for a baby, we drifted back to sleep. No problems!

It was a different story last night. Gilbert woke at 1:15 and we traipsed downstairs, leaving the rest of the mammals deep in the arms of whoever it is, oh, yes, Morpheus. Gilbert went out, came back in, forswore a drink of water and prepared to return to bed.

While he was out, I looked for Jellicoe. Usually, he’s asleep on one of the chairs, but he was nowhere to be seen. I checked the conservatory, although that’s a bit chilly at night for a fussy cat. I looked at the tops of the kitchen cupboards but he wasn’t there, neither was he lying on top of the grandfather clock. The radiators weren’t on, so he wasn’t resting there, either. I felt the first twinges of alarm. Cats tend to hide away when unwell, and an absent cat augurs problems. Jellicoe had been extremely ill a few months earlier and I feared a recurrence.

 Quietly, not wishing to disturb the peace – well, apart from the snoring – I called, ‘Cats, cats, cats.’ There was a thump on the bedroom floor, soon followed by the surprisingly heavy footfalls of Jellicoe. I hadn’t realised he was on our bed. Herschel, of course, slumbered on. He’s driven by comfort and warmth, while Jellicoe’s motivating force is hunger.

                                                      Feed me . . .

I was relieved to see our little cat, and, of course, had to give him a treat as he had come when called. Then Gilbert and I trailed back upstairs. There was a little ‘bitey’ play and he fell asleep. It was now 1:45.

                              When not campaigning for food, Jellicoe enjoys relaxing on the bridge over the pond and indulging in some ornithology

Our animals like to be close to other living beings, either of their own species or another. Gilbert’s head was resting on my leg and Jellicoe was pressed up against my side and next to Gilbert, while Herschel maintained his position next to Barry. I wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep but couldn’t. I was very warm, with two virtual hot water bottles alongside. I tried ‘counted breathing’, which almost worked but suddenly there came into my brain an old advertising jingle.

‘You’ll wonder where the yellow went when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent’. This advertisement first appeared on our screens in 1957. I don’t remember anything about it other than the refrain.

Attempting to stop the incessant repetition of this jingle, I wondered which other advertisements I could remember. In 1958 we had a P.E. teacher called Mrs Bradshaw. Unfortunately for her, that same year a washing powder called Surf was advertised featuring ‘Mrs Bradshaw.’ Our teacher withstood the ridicule from know-it-all adolescents with remarkable aplomb, at least, in public.

In the 1960s a carpet cleaning liquid was advertised that claimed to clean ‘a big, big carpet for less than half a crown. So, the adverts that lodged in my brain were all to do with cleaning things.

By 1973 the focus seemed to shift to comestibles (love that word - so quaint!)

Strictly speaking, lemonade is not a foodstuff, but R. Whites’ advert of 1973 featured in my recollections in the wee small hours. 'I'm a secret lemonade drinker - R. Whites, R. Whites'.

‘Everyone’s a fruit and nut case’ came along in 1975, and finally, before I fell asleep just after 2:45, I was humming along to ‘Just one Cornetto’, which appeared on our screens in 1982.

Amazingly, all these things are still available. It is possible to avoid televised advertisements now, so I am not au fait with current advertising trends, but I wonder if any of them stick irritatingly in the brain and if they achieve their aim – to part people from their money? There is one I sometimes hear and which annoys me and that is ‘Go compare.’

Are you resistant to advertising?     

                            

Magpie Tales #82 The Revenant

Thanks go to Tess Kincaid who organises and hosts this meme J To read more Magpies please click here.

 The Revenant by Andrew Wyeth, 1949

He looked at himself critically in the full-length mirror.  Not many men his age could boast a physique like his. He patted his stomach proudly. He still had all his hair, too, notwithstanding it was turning white and receding slightly. That made his forehead appear more prominent and gave him an intellectual air so he wasn’t displeased with that. There were a few lines around his eyes and mouth but they added character to his face and drew attention away from his pointed ears – his ears had always been a cause of vexation to him, but wearing his hair slightly longer helped to disguise them, he thought. There was a little too much chest hair for his liking but he disapproved of waxing – that was something for the younger generation.

He had been slightly surprised and not a little gratified when his agent had contacted him recently about some work. It was a few years since he had been active but he was pleased that he had not been completely forgotten. He had made his name – and his fortune – in a series of coffee advertisements. He wondered if they were to be updated. He liked the idea of recreating his persona as a mature man. Perhaps he would be expected to introduce a subtly mellow coffee for the connoisseur, like Monsoon Malabar or Old Brown Java. He breathed in, imagining the aroma, and smiled slightly.

His agent had been quite evasive but enthused that he was definitely well qualified for the work. He accepted that – she had always treated him well. At the studio he was greeted with courtesy and offered refreshment while the story line of the advert was summarised. When they reached the part about the wheelchair and the nurse he had been startled. He was perfectly able to walk, he said, and he really didn’t think he was old enough to be advertising a retirement home. They told him he looked the part, frail but alert, intelligent and engaging, and there would be a series and a sizeable fee.

Reluctantly he agreed and was soon enjoying a whole new career as the face of care homes throughout the country, wearing a white ensemble that became his trademark. Eventually he became known as the Man in White, fêted as the representative of the elderly. He became a minor celebrity once more and was booked to open summer fayres and new supermarkets. He was invited to take part in quiz shows and light-hearted debates.

He knew what his fellow thespians thought of him. Less fortunate than him and envious, they called him the Comeback Kid or, more unkindly, the Revenant, a reference to his spectral appearance in the advertisements. Little matter – he was happy enough. 

Let them call him what they pleased – he was being paid for being old.