Sorry but your dog should be illegal

British bulldogs – our nation’s nodding dog, affectionately turned into an insurance mascot – can only give birth by caesarean section because their heads are so enormous. Their squashed faces mean their airways are compressed, leaving them permanently short of breath, prone to overheating and snorting their way through life: the average span of which is just seven years.

The dachshund – beautiful sausage dogs who I would wager have more Instagram followers per capita than any other breed, thanks to their improbable proportions making any outfit we stuff them into unbelievably cute – suffer some of the highest rates of spinal problems in the dog world. Their elongated backs put enormous strain on their vertebrae, leaving many paralysed by slipped discs before they’re even dog-middle-aged.

Great Danes, bred to be ever bigger and closer to resembling Scooby Doo, grow so quickly and so large that their bodies often struggle to keep up. Their hearts and joints are under enormous strain, leaving them prone to heart failure and bone disease, and their average lifespan is barely longer than a decade.

So naturally, I agree with the findings of the All-Party Parliamentary Dog Advisory Welfare Group, which has been examining the scale of suffering caused by extreme breeding. Their recent report argues that some modern pedigree standards have become so unhealthy that they are effectively normalising cruelty, and suggest that as many as 67 dog breeds with serious hereditary health issues could face restrictions in Britain unless breeding practices improve.

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Cue outrage. The Daily Mail warned darkly that dozens of beloved breeds could be “banned”. The Times fretted that even the late Queen Elizabeth II’s beloved corgis might be under threat. Jeremy Clarkson has somehow reasoned that the proposals are out to get “right wing dogs” (whatever that means). 

I can already see opponents of the bill conjuring images of bureaucrats marching into parks confiscating spaniels and pugs like a canine version of the childsnatcher from Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. 

Does my heart melt every time I see one of these 67 beautiful breeds in a public park? Yes, and I probably make a fool of myself doting over them and giving sloppy kisses. But the annoying animal lover in me also knows the truth: that these dogs shouldn’t exist, at least not in this form.

For most of human history, selective breeding was centred around a dog’s work, such as herding sheep, retrieving game, or guarding homes. But over the last century, particularly with the rise of kennel clubs and competitive dog shows, breeding has become about appearance. 

Traits that have nothing to do with a dog’s wellbeing – flatter noses, longer backs, tinier legs, enormous skulls – became fashionable. Breeders have pushed further and further toward exaggerated features, fueled by demand, simply because the results looked so distinctive. 

Anyone who disagrees is not a true animal lover. Because if you had seen the pain these animals go through – or lived through the slow decline of one – you would never wish the same on another.

My childhood dog was a great galumphing yellow labrador with the temperament of a kindly old man. He died aged eleven, euthanised compassionately after he broke his leg. The vets told us it had snapped so easily because his bones were riddled with cancer, a disease that kills one third of the breed.

We now have a Romanian rescue, a mongrel dog made of so many parts that when we did her doggy DNA test the result was essentially “whatever you want, mate”. 

Despite being a behavioural nightmare – barking at men, children and bicycles – we’ve barely had to take her to the vet. Well, apart from the time she got into a fight with a squirrel and it left her with a cut lip as a parting gift.

Our demands that these living creatures become walking vanity projects is just one of the many reasons humans are not worthy of the planet we live on and the beings we share it with.

Our obsession with pedigree dogs – parading them around Crufts and measuring tail curvature or the perfect gait – is ridiculous. The impulse humans have to crop the tails and ears of dogs for aesthetic purposes is perverse. 

But more importantly, anyone sane who has ever had the privilege of loving a dog knows that what you remember about them isn’t the exact shape of their skull or the colour of their eyes. You remember how excited they were when you came home. How happy they were to snooze at your feet. How they humped your favourite slippers. 

No one is suggesting we cull every living pug, scottie, or shi zhu, but simply spare future generations of dogs from a life of pain. 

Mongrels are healthier dogs. And they’re far more likely to be found in rescue centres, waiting for someone to give them a home. If you’re thinking about getting a dog and feel disheartened by the list of breeds that might one day face restrictions, because you like the coat of one or the ears of another, I promise you this: somewhere in a shelter there will be a slightly odd-looking mutt who will make your life just as phenomenal – and who will probably still be alive to greet you a decade later.