Breed Profiles

The Xoloitzcuintli at the shelter had no fur, warm grey skin, and a look that said it had already judged my entire bloodline and found it wanting. I went in for a terrier and came out with a dog the Aztecs had once considered a gift from the gods, and the longer I lived with her the more the reverence made sense.

The Xolo, as most of us call it, is one of the oldest dog breeds on earth, depicted in pottery from Mesoamerica a couple of thousand years back and kept by the Aztecs and Maya as a companion, a warmer for cold beds, and a guide for the souls of the dead. It comes in three sizes, from a toy that fits in a tote to a standard that stands knee-high, and in two coats, the famous hairless and a coated variety that carries the recessive gene. The hairless one is the headline: smooth, warm, almost leathery skin, with a tuft on the head and a wispy tail, and a body temperature a few degrees above ours that makes it the best hot-water bottle you will ever own.

People expect a hairless dog to be fragile. The Xolo is tough, agile, and a little aloof, a sighthound-type temperament wrapped in bare skin, and mine could clear a sofa from a standstill and then act as if the feat had not happened. The breed is clean to the point of being nearly odourless, sheds nothing, and is the closest thing I have met to a hypoallergenic dog, which is why friends with cat allergies could finally visit without weeping.

The skin is the whole relationship and the whole job. No fur means no buffer against the world. Sunburn is a real risk, so a Xolo that lives outside the tropics needs a dog-safe sunscreen on the pink bits and a shirt in summer, and the cold is worse, because a dog with no coat and a high metabolism gets cold fast, and mine owned more jumpers than I did. Bathing is weekly, because the skin oils build up and the dog starts to smell faintly of warm cheese, and a gentle wipe between baths keeps it honest.

What the breed asks of you

The surprise was the guarding. A Xolo is reserved with strangers to the point of suspicion, and mine would position herself between me and the doorbell with a stillness that meant she was calculating, not napping. She was not a barker, which I loved, but she was a watcher, and a watcher that has decided you are not on the list is a dog you have to socialise hard as a puppy or live with as an adult who distrusts the postman on principle.

Training came easily because the breed is clever and a touch stubborn, and a clever stubborn dog reads an inconsistent handler as someone to ignore. I kept sessions short and food-heavy and got a dog that learned the routine in a week and then spent the rest of her life improving it. The prey drive is real, though, and a Xolo that sees a squirrel becomes a greyhound with opinions, so the lead stays on near roads and the fence stays high.

Health is mostly the skin and the teeth. Hairless Xolos often have missing or odd teeth, a quirk of the same gene that costs them fur, and the mouth needs a vet's eye. The skin can break out from laundry detergent or a plastic bowl, so I switched to steel and fragrance-free wash and the spots cleared. Beyond that the breed is long-lived and sturdy, free of the joint disasters that plague the giant dogs, and the standard size especially is an athlete that stays sound into old age.

I would not call her a cuddler in the golden-retriever sense. She was a dog that chose her moments, that warmed my feet at night and judged my guests by daylight, and that carried herself like something that remembered being sacred. The Aztecs may have overstated the soul-guiding, but they got the companionship right. A hairless dog the size of a small deer, warm as a heating pad, aloof as a cat, and loyal in a quiet way that sneaks up on you. I went in for a terrier and came out changed, and I have not missed the fur once.

The coated variety is worth a word, because people assume all Xolos are bald and are startled by the furry ones. The coated dog carries the recessive gene, looks like a sleek short-haired retriever, and is a good choice for owners who want the temperament without the skin chore, though purists will tell you the hairless is the real thing. Either way the breed is rare enough that a puppy means a wait and a breeder who screens for the teeth and the skin.

Mine aged into a calm I did not earn, the aloof puppy becoming a dog that chose my feet at night and my guests' characters by daylight, and the heater-bill savings of a dog that warms the bed were real. The Aztecs, it turns out, were onto something, and I say that as someone who went in for a terrier and came out with a small, warm, judgmental god.