2018: The Catahoula

This story was selected by the Country Roads magazine editorial team as the representative piece for 2018 in the archival project "40 Stories From 40 Years"—celebrating the magazine's 40th anniversary on stands. Click here to read more stories from the project. 

Growing up in a rural area with no neighboring children, I had a dog as my playmate—and what a dog! A Catahoula Hog Dog (now dubbed the Catahoula Leopard Dog), Pogo was my loyal, brilliant, mischievous buddy. We played hide and seek, climbed trees, swung in hammocks, and ran in pastures he purged of feral hogs. In less idyllic moments, he leveled a garage door to join an Easter egg hunt, tossed a venomous snake in front of my father’s face, repeatedly ripped my jeans in playful tussles, and joyfully chased cars, his cause of death.  When his breed was renamed and made Louisiana’s state dog in 1979, I grieved for him again. 

The Catahoula’s billing as Louisiana’s top dog is fitting. The breed is indigenous to the state, sharing its mystique; its bloodlines are a gumbo of rich ingredients spiced by conflicting theories and maybe a pinch of voodoo. It was believed that native dogs, including Catahoulas, interbred with red wolves to produce “wolf dogs,” but current DNA analysis says no and reveals genetic links to domesticated European and Asian dogs brought with the migrating prehistoric ancestors of Native Americans hoping their dogs would make this strange new place feel like home.  An addition of new genetic juice arrived when Spanish dogs, hogs, and conquistador Hernando de Soto and his minions marched into what would become Catahoula Parish. The pork was to feed the Spaniards; the greyhounds and mastiffs, called “war dogs,” were to attack Native Americans and intimidate them into surrendering and coughing up coffers of gold.  After de Soto died, his relieved men vamoosed after butchering some hogs, giving some to the Indians, and letting the rest of their piggy band escape to multiply relentlessly in the swamps. Local tribes gladly added de Soto’s abandoned dogs to their hunting packs. They too romped in the swamp, interbred, and further complicated Catahoula genetics.

After circa three hundred swampy years of animal husbandry au naturel, French settlers arrived, bringing their own herding watchdogs, Beaucerons, to season the genetic gumbo. The settlers were stunned to see swamps teeming with wild hogs and “strange-looking” native dogs with “haunting glass eyes,” but were even more intrigued by the intuitive man/canine dynamics on display as dogs tracked, herded, surrounded, and trapped the hogs until their humans arrived to complete the endeavor.

Meanwhile, the white man’s presence increased, and the four native tribes of the area, the Avoyelles, Ofo, Tunica, and Choctaw, sought safety in native numbers, withdrawing together near Catahoula Lake. Thus they were erroneously but evermore called Catahoula Indians, owners of the Catahoula cur, a dog destined to become highly respected and adopted by cattlemen, huntsmen, and breeders.

A working dog par excellence, the Catahoula is a robust, medium-to-large dog standing up to twenty-six inches and weighing up to one hundred pounds. It is muscular but lithe, not bulky, and a versatile, instinctive herder and hunter, an even-tempered, fearlessly loyal dog a man can count on. The breed is called “the king of all stock dogs.” A herding dog with background in swampy feral pig handling, it has webbed toes to slog through soggy ground and swim with ease. Hog herding translates to working other livestock, which the running dog circles, nipping at the animal’s head and ears rather than heels, pressuring it to move the right direction. Their stellar herding reputation prompted Venezuelans to use Catahoulas to herd Brahman cattle scattered across huge ranches. Equally valued by hunters, they begin tracking silently, becoming tightly focused miles from the prey, and do not bay until eye-to-eye with the hunted. When hunting fed families, pups were tested for tracking skills. The weak were culled. Only superior pups lived to strengthen the gifted line that served generations of hunters. Today, the honed skills of these dogs make them fit for canine police work and search and rescue jobs. Protective with canine canniness, they make excellent guard dogs. If you want a “can do” dog, go Catahoula, but be warned: These energetic animals are no city dogs and need room to roam to be happy.

[Read this: “My motto is ‘Not everybody needs a Catahoula.'"] 

Physical appearance was secondary to work ethics for breeders, resulting in a hodgepodge of colors and patterns.  Catahoulas wear coats of many colors: their short fur may be solid brown, red, blue, dark gray, or black and may also be affected by the merle gene, which dilutes colors randomly, creating beguiling spots and patchwork patterns. The variety of coats is as endless as choices of Catahoula eyes, which sparkle in blue, green, brown, amber, or almost-white “glass” eyes. “Cracked glass” eyes have two colors. If you want variety, go Catahoula.

Once the trusted dog of Native Americans and now a friend and co-worker of Louisianans of all origins, the Catahoula is an American original. Cross breeding and interbreeding shaped a noble beast that is getting deserved recognition as hunter, herder, and finally, companion dog. If you hanker for one, you may find the dog has a personality as strong as yours. Be prepared, yet willing, to go Catahoula.  

Lucile lives within the Vicksburg city limits, so she currently has no Catahoula to call her own (or to call her its own). She remains an admirer.

Read more about cover photographer John Slaughter here.