Although I call myself Oakley’s “mom,” it’s obviously not true. I’m mostly Irish. Oakley is mostly German…shepherd, that is.

Even our kids’ dog, Ozby—our granddog, and Oakley’s “cousin”—is not actually related to him. But thanks to a canine DNA test, we recently learned Oakley has a biological brother living a few towns over. His name is Owen, and like Oakley, he’s a rescue.

My adventure into dog DNA started as pure curiosity. With rescue dogs, you often get a name, a weight estimate and a hopeful guess of breed. Oakley’s paperwork labeled him a greyhound mix, which made some sense at first glance. He’s sleek. He’s fast. He has that sighthound look.

Still, I wasn’t fully convinced.

“I think he’s part shepherd,” I’d tell people. “Look at that tail.”

My husband had his own theories: maybe some Labrador retriever or heeler. Our vet voted whippet. 

The DNA results settled the debate. Oakley’s mix came back as:

• German shepherd (33.8%)

• Chihuahua (29.7%)

• Australian cattle dog (19.8%)

• American pit bull terrier (12.2%)

• Catahoula leopard dog (4.5%)

So much for greyhound. 

When I told our neighbor, she looked Oakley up and down, then said, “That’s the biggest Chihuahua I’ve ever seen.”

A lot of my friends have tested their dogs, too, mostly for the fun of it. There’s something oddly satisfying about having an answer ready when someone asks, “What is he?” 

It’s also a kick to tell someone that you have a “chiweenie” or “huskador.” 

But there are also practical reasons to know what your mutt is made of.

For centuries, people have bred dogs for specific traits—herding, guarding, hunting, companionship. Along with the traits, some breeds carry genetic risks. If you know what’s in the mix, you and your veterinarian may have a better heads-up on potential issues to watch for.

Because Oakley is largely German shepherd, for example, it’s possible he could be more vulnerable to degenerative myelopathy, a disease of the spinal cord that can cause progressive loss of coordination and muscle weakness.

I’m choosing to believe the Chihuahua in him can nip that possibility in the bud.

As for Owen, Oakley’s brother, I’m still not sure what that makes me in the grand scheme of things. And I have no idea what my relationship is to Owen’s humans, either. 

I did send them a photo of Oakley and a note about what a great dog he is. That part felt easy.

What I know for sure is this: To anyone who has adopted a rescue dog, we are connected at the heart. This makes us family. 

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