'A Labrador wouldn’t dream of missing the opportunity to say hello'

They say dogs look like their owners, but it’s more likely that owners look like their dogs. I’m not sure if we consciously choose a dog because it reminds us of our own appearance or personality – it’s more complex than that – but there is something in it. When I presented Crufts, you could invariably tell what day it was according to the owners: the more preened the dog, the more preened the owner, the softer the dog, the softer the owner… you get my point.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been compared to a Labrador. Let’s compare our personalities. Labradors are an intelligent breed; they have a good work ethic and steady, even temperaments. Kind, curious and outgoing, they love to explore and they love company. Loyal, loving, happy. It seems too egotistical to describe my own personality, so I got my wife to do it for me.

‘Ben is kind, loving, thoughtful, loyal, considerate,’ she said. I can add that I love food and a good party. I love to explore and I’m curious. In fact, the only difference appears to be in intelligence. I’m not that intelligent – though to be fair I’m not sure Labradors are either. I would describe a Labrador as an eager-to-please, smiling, waggy-tailed friend, which is exactly the way I’d like to see myself. The one big difference between me and the breed is that while I am shy and lack confidence, Labradors are naturally outgoing; they greet all strangers and then sit confidently next to them.

A Labrador has an extraordinary sense of smell and can sniff out food from a huge distance. Of course, this isn’t unique to the breed, but unlike bloodhounds, say, the Labrador has the distinction of following a scent for its own benefit. I’d be walking in a park with my beloved black Labrador, Inca, when she would pick up a scent. She would place her nose close to the ground and sniff deeply. The sniffs would become intense as she lifted her nose to the air to find out where it led.

Then, like a heat-seeking missile, she would place her nose to the ground and gallop towards the source of the scent. Sometimes it would be a tiny piece of ham dropped from a picnicker’s sandwich, or maybe an old crisp packet. Inca was always able to sniff out food, however small the remains. I’ve always thought litter pickers should have a Labrador to help them with their work.

Perhaps one of the unique traits that really marks them out is their love of holding objects in their mouth. Socks, shoes, letters, soft toys, books: I’ve been greeted with them all. My key in the door seems to be the command to pick up an object and bring it to the hall. I’ve even been woken in the morning by a happy Labrador holding my wife’s bra and my children’s shorts. For a Labrador, nothing is sacred but everything is special.

Yet apart from coating the object with a little slobber, a Labrador will rarely damage it. They hold on with great gentleness, and for that reason they have become coveted hunting and shooting companions, as they don’t damage the prey: a Labrador can carry an egg in its mouth without breaking it.

It is this happy-go-lucky, bouncy, tail-wagging personality that attracts me to the Labrador. In many ways it is the antithesis to the modern world in which we rarely talk to strangers and don’t know our own neighbours. When was the last time you said good morning to a stranger on the Tube? A Labrador wouldn’t dream of missing the opportunity to say hello.

They are not famed for their athleticism or sporting prowess – the caricature most associated with Labradors is of a rather rotund dog who has eaten all the pies. It’s a fair depiction.Inca loved food more than anything – she would have eaten her own leg given half a chance – but she also never knew when to call it quits. She lacked the sensor to tell her when she was full. She once ate a whole marzipan cake – she looked like a barrel afterwards and couldn’t walk for three days, but it didn’t put her off eating. This insatiable appetite is what makes Labradors so trainable – offer a Lab some food and they will do anything.

Yet although house dogs like Inca tend to be less athletic, there is such a thing as an athletic Labrador – some, particularly those bred for fieldworking skills, are particularly fast and athletic. Indeed, one of the reasons for Labradors’ universal popularity is the fact they are equally good as working dogs as they are family dogs.

Their gentle, eager-to-please temperament means they are great around children and other animals. My children Ludo and Iona used to sit on Inca. They would inadvertently pull her tail and her ears and place their hands in her mouth to examine her gums and her teeth and she would just lie there. I trusted her implicitly with them.

‘Biddability’ is a word used by many to describe a Labrador. I think it’s much simpler: a Labrador is a happy dog, it always has a smile on its face. It projects happiness – the tail-wagging and the overall body language project a euphoria that I find contagious. I have lost count of the times I have returned home after a hard day and my spirits are lifted by the tongue-lolling, tail-wagging greeting I receive at the front door.

The easy trainability and superior intellectual capacity of Labradors make them fast at learning tricks and being able to ‘perform’. This is why they have been trained for jobs from trufflehunter to drug-sniffer. But one job they would not be good at, because they are so easy-going and trusting with strangers, is guard dog. I used to joke that if a robber ever broke into our house he would be greeted by a Labrador holding an old pair of pants and then he’d be helped by the same eager-to-please Lab, who would show him where all the valuables were hidden. In a Labrador’s eyes people are like food. There is no such thing as bad food.

They are the aristocracy of dogs and have long been associated with the upper echelons of British society. In 1879 the Prince of Wales established the first Labrador kennels at Sandringham and the dogs bred there continue to be firm favourites with the Royal Family, particularly the Queen. The corgis may be the public face of the Queen’s canine companions but the Labrador is the private love of her life.

In keeping with the need for historical accuracy, a Lab, Roly, was cast as Lord Grantham’s dog Pharoah in Downton Abbey. When Lady Carnarvon, owner of Highclere Castle (used in the series) invited me to tea, her own Labradors were marching around the house. ‘We had to shut our dogs away when the film dogs arrived,’ she said.

Indeed, the problems with Percy, the Carnarvons’ Labrador, meant that Roly was ‘killed off’ between series one and two. Another Labrador was needed for series two, for the breed was the gundog of choice for the landed gentry at the time.

The late Dowager Duchess of Devonshire, former chatelaine of Chatsworth, was Deputy President of the International Gundog League Retriever Society and a long-serving committee member. The first time I met her, I had Inca in tow. The Duchess doted on her. She wanted to know if I had ever trialled her and asked if she was greedy, which I took as an insinuation she might be a little ‘large’ for field work. We both laughed.

But the Labrador is not just a status symbol. Pets create a wider family unit, and a Lab adds distinctive personality and an extra emotional dynamic. For me, on Castaway all those years ago, the presence of Inca added to my personality. I benefited from her character traits. A dog is about much more than just physical appearance. A dog is an extension of you.

The number of Labradors worldwide is estimated to be in the millions and they have overwhelmingly topped the most popular breed list in the United Kingdom, United States, Canada and Australia for decades. The humble Labrador is certainly spreading its genes, but what about its future? The breed has thrived for more than 100 years, resilient and adaptable, and I have little doubt that it will continue to thrive and adapt for another century.

At heart I am a Labrador traditionalist. I love its simplicity. What you see is what you get: happy dogs with a strong attachment to people. The rights and wrongs of continuing the pedigree lines will be argued for many decades to come, and while my brain tells me it’s wrong to encourage and support the pedigree spiral, my heart still wants the classic Labrador. 

Labrador, by Ben Fogle, is published by William Collins, priced £20.