The Coat Was Designed for a Job. But What If the Job Has Gone?

This may cause a little controversy, but bear with me… or, as Martha Beck once said, "Hear me now, understand me later."

I've been doing a lot of research for my book. Naturally, there will be dogs involved—especially terriers. Actually, only terriers. I wonder why... 

Lately, I've been digging deep into the history of harsh-coated terriers: why their coats evolved the way they did, what purpose they originally served, and what we need to do to preserve them. More importantly, I've been asking myself whether preserving those coats should always be the goal.

Briefly About Dog Shows.

If you're showing dogs in the conformation ring, the answer is obvious. That's exactly what dog shows are for. (Duh!) A dog show is an exhibition where dogs are judged against the ideal standard of their breed to identify the best representatives for preserving and improving future generations.

There are no tricks to perform and no agility courses to complete. At a conformation dog show, dogs simply stand, walk, or run while a judge examines them. Every part of the dog—from its teeth and head to its shoulders, feet, tail, coat and movement—is compared with the breed's official standard.

Historically, however, dog shows served a much more practical purpose than simply awarding rosettes.

Before modern genetics, there was no DNA testing or scientific way to predict what puppies would inherit. Breeders relied on careful observation. Dog shows gave them the opportunity to compare dogs from different regions and identify those that best represented their breed. Based on what they saw, they could make informed breeding decisions. In many ways, early dog shows acted as a quality-control system for breeding, helping to preserve and improve breeds rather than simply entertain spectators.

But this article isn't really about dog shows. I only wanted to set the scene.

Harsh Coat of The British Working Terriers. 

What I really want to talk about is the harsh coat of the British working terriers—where it came from, why it evolved, and whether its original purpose is still relevant today.

Those coats were designed to protect the dogs. Full stop.

They weren't created overnight. They were shaped over hundreds of years through selective breeding, influenced by the environments in which the dogs worked and refined by generations of practical experience.

Most of the harsh-coated terriers originated in parts of Britain where the weather was unforgiving, and the terrain was rough.

Take the Welsh Terrier, for example. It has one of the classic double coats of the British working terriers. Beneath the harsh outer jacket lies a dense insulating undercoat. Together, these layers protected the dog from rain, mud, snow, thorn bushes, bites, scratches and abrasive rock. The same basic coat structure can be found in the Lakeland Terrier, Cairn Terrier, West Highland White Terrier and several other British working terriers.

Old English Black and Tan Terrier - Old Working Terrier.

Nearly every British harsh-coated terrier can trace its ancestry back to a now-extinct population collectively known as the Old English Black and Tan Terrier, sometimes called the Old Working Terrier.

This wasn't a recognised breed in the way we think of breeds today. It was more a collection of regional working terriers that shared the same purpose.

They had several important characteristics in common: a small, flexible body; a harsh, weather-resistant outer coat; a dense insulating undercoat; facial furnishings that protected not only the eyes but the entire face; and enough hair on the legs to shield the skin and joints without getting in the way of their work.

These were incredibly tough little dogs. They were expected to work underground, think independently and face determined quarry without hesitation. Life on British farms was hard, and farmers needed equally hardy dogs to keep vermin under control.

Those little terriers were more than up to the task.

Farmers cared very little about how their dogs looked. What mattered was whether they could do the job they had been bred to do. Because those dogs were developed to suit local conditions, different regions gradually produced different types of terrier—and with them, different types of coat.

Why Does Every Harsh-Coated Terrier Have a Different Coat?

At first glance, many British harsh-coated terriers look remarkably similar. They all have a wiry outer coat, facial furnishings and that unmistakable "terrier" expression. But look a little closer, and you'll notice that every breed has its own coat characteristics.

Why?

The answer lies in several factors, but the two biggest were climate and terrain.

Britain may be a relatively small island, but it contains remarkably diverse landscapes: wet mountains, rocky fells, misty moorland, farmland and river valleys. A terrier working in the Welsh hills needed a different coat from one hunting alongside the rivers of Yorkshire.

Some terriers spent much of their time underground, squeezing through narrow earths. Others scrambled over rocks, crossed streams or worked through dense vegetation filled with thorns, brambles and sharp twigs. Their coats evolved to protect them from the particular challenges of the environments in which they worked.

Climate and terrain weren't the only influences. Their quarry also played an important role.

Different prey required different types of protection. Rats squeezed through dry stone walls, otters led dogs into cold rivers, foxes fought differently from badgers, and each demanded something slightly different from the terrier pursuing it.

Some breeds benefited from heavier protection, while others needed to remain lighter, faster and more agile. Over generations, each breed found its own balance.

You can still see those adaptations today.

Generally speaking, the farther north and wetter the climate, the more insulating the coat tends to be—as seen in the Cairn Terrier, West Highland White Terrier and Scottish Terrier. Conversely, the more a breed worked in narrow earths, the tighter and more streamlined its jacket became, as in the Border Terrier.

When I look at the two terrier breeds I share my home with—an Airedale and a Lakeland—I can clearly see how history shaped their coats.

The Lake District receives plenty of rain. Lakeland Terriers were bred to hunt rats on farms and foxes in rugged sheep country. They had to climb over rocky fells, squeeze between stones and cross mountain streams. As a result, they developed a dense, crisp jacket that shed water quickly and dried fast. They weren't primarily underground workers; they were agile climbers, built for rough, uneven terrain.

What if we have no intention of comparing it against the breed standard?

Do we still need to preserve the original coat at all costs?

I don't think we do.

And that's why I clip my own terriers—even though I genuinely enjoy hand stripping.

Why I Clip My Own Terriers

Richard, my Airedale Terrier, is almost ten years old.

We had him neutered when he was just over two years old. At the time, we had several female terriers in the house, and every season was incredibly stressful for him. We had no plans to show him or breed from him, so neutering was the right decision for our family.

Like many neutered harsh-coated breeds, his coat changed dramatically afterwards. It became softer, thicker and much more difficult to hand strip successfully.

Could I still hand strip him? Probably.

Do I want to? Not really.

And here's why.

Richard no longer needs the coat that nature and generations of breeders designed for an Airedale working in the rivers of Yorkshire. He isn't hunting otters or crossing icy streams. In fact, he hates the rain and avoids water whenever possible.

My fourteen-year-old Lakeland Terrier, Adele, was a different story. She had an amazing hand-stripping coat throughout her life—even after retiring from the show ring following her Best of Breed win at Crufts.

I even made a video demonstrating how clipping can affect coat texture. One side of her body was hand-stripped, while the other was clipped, showing the difference after just a single clip.

And then... I carried on clipping her.

Tinker Bell followed much the same path. She was shown successfully as a puppy and a youngster, but we eventually decided not to continue showing her. Life moved on, priorities changed, and clipping simply became the more practical option.

And you know what? I actually like my terriers soft and fluffy.

To me, there's something wonderful about cuddling a soft coat. I absolutely admire the sharp, clean expression that only a properly hand-stripped terrier can have, but I also love my softer-looking dogs. If I'm honest, it suits their personalities.

They're a little goofy—especially Richard.

They're indoor sofa dogs far more often than they're fearless working terriers battling foxes in freezing rain.

They don't need a coat that protects them from thorn bushes, icy rivers or harsh weather.

And perhaps their coats don't need to be quite so hardy anymore either.

For me, it has never been a case of one approach being right and the other wrong.

I can admire the skill of hand stripping and still choose to clip my own dogs.

I can appreciate the beautifully clean, rectangular head of a perfectly groomed Lakeland Terrier and still smile at Adele's short, fluffy face with no fall.

Both things can be true.

And I'm perfectly happy with that.

How about you? 

Jitka Križo Averis xx