I was out walking my dogs the other day when I passed a woman with a fluffy puppy. As I fed Freddie bits of freeze-dried liver to keep his mind off barking, I asked if her pup was a Labradoodle. “No!” she said emphatically. “He’s an Australian Labradoodle.”

Little did she know she was talking to a dog and people expert who would profile her, possibly incorrectly and certainly unfairly, solely on the basis of one verbally italicized modifier: Australian.  Quick assessments are my métier, and I decided on the spot that the puppy’s owner was a status conscious mom new to dog ownership.

You’ll need more information to understand how I came to that conclusion.

Labradoodles are extremely popular these days for their allegedly hypoallergenic properties and adorable shagginess. Every dog class I’ve helped teach usually has two or three. The Labradoodle isn’t an AKC-recognized breed; nor is the more highly coveted Australian Labradoodle, although breeders in Australia are trying to develop a uniform breed standard so as eventually to gain entry into purebred dog clubs.  “Australian” signifies that a dog is a “ multigenerational hybrid” descended from parents who are Labradoodles, not from a cross between a Labrador Retriever and a Poodle, the original provenance of this fancy mixed breed. Breeders draw an even finer distinction between American Australian Labradoodles and Australian Australian Labradoodles, which is more information than you probably care to know.

But Labradoodles are still technically mutts, albeit very trendy, expensive, and genetically modified ones.

Like first-time parents who latch onto every enrichment gimmick in the hope of turning their infant into a baby Einstein, new dog owners are suckers for marketing ploys that claim to produce a superior pet. High on the list of the Australian Labradoodle’s merits is its “nonshedding” coat (which actually varies in degree of sheddability from dog to dog). This feature, along with the affable temperament these dogs are bred for, attracts many new owners who are put off by doggie odors and dog hair—in other words, those who are less likely to be diehard dog people.

Families with young kids love Labradoodles because of their hypoallergenic rep (a false one, as it turns out: no dogs are truly hypoallergenic) and because they look cuddly and goofy and are usually good-natured. But [public service digression] untrained, they may turn out to be more than a busy family can manage, which is why so many quintessential family dogs like Labs and Goldens wind up in shelters after they outgrow the cute puppy stage.

It may seem I feel superior because I have an AKC-registered, pedigreed dog, an Australian Shepherd (a breed originating in the United States, not Australia, by the way). But that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I’m actually rather embarrassed about my dog’s aristocratic lineage. As a dog lover, I’m a staunch supporter of rescuing animals in need of a home and would have taken the adoption route with our newest dog had I been able to find a suitable puppy at the time. My next dog, purebred or mixed, will definitely be a rescue.

And I’m not disparaging Doodles, either. I also have one of those—a Cockapoo (shouldn’t they be called Cockadoodles, like Labradoodles and Goldendoodles?). He’s turned out to be an excellent dog, even though we acquired him in a highly questionable fashion, without knowing anything about his temperament, from a backyard breeder who placed an ad in the newspaper.

What does all this arcane talk about dogs have to do with elite universities?

The puppy owner’s need to announce her dog’s “bone fidos” [sic] made me think of all the cars in my neighborhood (my own included) with designer-brand college stickers on the rear windshields. And of all my conversations with fellow, hypercompetitive Montgomery County parents about where our kids were applying to college and where they would be heading after the acceptance and rejection letters arrived. There was a lot of bragging (“She got a full scholarship to Maryland, but how could she pass up the opportunity to go to Brown?” and a lot of defensiveness (“He’s going to Maryland, but he’ll be in the Honors Program”).

With two of my children out of college and the last one more than halfway through, and having seen many students in my practice over the years, I’ve acquired a different perspective. The students I treat are all struggling, whether they’re at Georgetown (#22), GWU  (#50), or American (#82). I’ve come to believe that where our kids end up going to college doesn’t matter nearly as much as we think it does.

So does Harvard graduate Jay Mathews, education writer for the Washington Post and author of the book, Harvard Schmarvard: Getting Beyond the Ivy League to the College that Is Best for You. Mathews claims, and offers research data to back his argument, that traits such as persistence, honesty, optimism, and character count far more than an elite college degree in determining future success.

I’m not surprised. I’ve worked with Princeton and Yale graduates whose emotional issues kept them from doing well in college despite their perfect SAT scores and who continued to underperform in graduate school and beyond. I’ve also seen high-level government officials and corporate lawyers who, in spite of having attended mediocre colleges, went on to elite law schools and achieved success in their careers.

And just look at Freddie, my Australian Shepherd. He’s endowed with superior physical attributes and a keen intelligence passed down from his award-winning show dog and herding ancestors. But when I looked into enrolling him in a sheep herding class to channel his instincts into a more productive activity than corralling our guests, I realized it would be out of the question. Freddie is highly sensitive. He recoils when strangers reach out to pet him. Teaching him to herd sheep, it seems, would involve prodding him with sticks. He’d probably bite the trainer in fear, and I’d suffer a nervous collapse anticipating the lawsuit.

It just goes to show you, an Ivy League degree (or impeccable papers, in Freddie’s case) isn’t everything. The flip side is also worth considering. A less impressive resume isn’t necessarily handicapping.  Take Uggy, the plucky Jack Russell terrier, who stole the show in “The Artist.” He was a nine-year-old Death Row inmate when his trainer rescued him and made him a star.

Parents of high school students, and the students themselves, could take some of the pressure off the intense college application process if they remembered one point: just because a college is the best doesn’t mean it’s the best for you.