Bailey and I both received our DNA results today. It turns out we’re not related.

While I am one-third German, one-quarter Irish, and a couple of other European ethnicities, Bailey is one-third Labrador, one-third Beagle, and one-third 15 different breeds. In other words, she is truly an American shelter dog, or as my husband tells everyone, “Lynda spent a lot of money to determine that our dog is a mutt.”

This is harsh commentary from the man who loves to watch ancestry shows on PBS. While neither Bailey nor I had any “Finding Your Roots” moments revealing a clear DNA path descended from ancient royalty, at least I know that I am not married to my long-lost third cousin.

In Bailey’s tree, most of her “relatives” are purebred Labradors. This leads me to suspect that one of her ancestors may have gone astray and parented an illegitimate litter. This leads Bill to offer: “Most people with mutts have the common sense not to genetically test their dogs.”

In my defense, studies show that visual identifications of dog breeds are accurate only 25% of the time, even with dog professionals. Not surprisingly, the Husky/Hound pup I thought I adopted is instead significantly Beagle — the one dog breed I swore I’d never own. As I once told my friend, who had a Beagle at the time, “it’s a good thing Beagles are cute because they are nothing but trouble.” Stubborn, prone to wandering off, demanding lots of exercise — Bailey is guilty as charged.

But why focus on the negative? Bailey is also part Lab. Now that’s a type of dog that I’ve always admired. Naturally, I started reading up on the breed and attributing all of Bailey’s positive traits to her Labadorness. Friendly, loyal and fun-loving, that’s my girl!

In the middle of my research, Bill called out to me, “What are you looking up now?

“Beagadors,” I answered enthusiastically.

There was a sigh from the vicinity of the couch. “What … is … a … Beagador?”

“It’s a designer dog. A Beagle/ Lab mix. And you know what?” I continued.

“What?” He asked with obvious reluctance.

“If it wasn’t for the 15 other breeds, Bailey would be a designer dog — a Beagador!”

This epiphany produced a snort from the couch.

I entirely understand Bill’s reaction. Our other ancient pound puppy is a Chihuahua/Daschund mix. Sophie is a weirdly cute, kind of cartoonish dog. Or she was until Sophie was identified as a designer mix — a Chiweenie. I think the title has gone to her head as Sophie insists on the premium dog bed, is always the first to get a treat, and rules the roost. But sometimes when I look at her long body and bug eyes, I wonder who thought this was a good idea.

Foolhardy or not, it’s human nature to try to modify things to please ourselves, whether it’s food, our spouses, or our pets. A few weeks ago my bike group discussed this as we ate lunch.

“So is a nectarine a separate fruit or is it just a peach with smooth skin?” Beth posed the question. (We are known for our deeply intellectual conversations.)

“I think a nectarine is its own thing,” someone ventured.

“I don’t know,” Beth continued. “Can’t you just picture some guy biting into a peach and saying ‘Hey, this is good, but I hate the fuzzy skin?’ Next thing you know they’ve bred a hairless peach.”

We all laughed at the image.

A little research established that peaches and nectarines are two separate, but related species of stone fruit. Matter settled … except for the grocery ad that came out the other day, promoting peacherines.

Reality worked in the opposite fashion of Beth’s imagination. A peacherine has the fuzzy outside of a peach and the deep yellow innards of a nectarine. It is a designer fruit, but somehow I don’t see it as having the popularity of a doggy hybrid, like, say, a Labradoodle.

This brings me back to Bailey — our mutt or not-quite a designer dog; it doesn’t really matter. Just like my kids, she is far from perfect, but she’s ours. And while we may not be related, Bailey is the only member of my family who doesn’t complain when I write about her.