The percentages fade out; the name doesn't

A tapering stack of solid black bars, widest at the top. STAFFORDSHIRE 31%. BORDER COLLIE 22%. SHAR PEI 9%. Below that the bars keep narrowing into slivers too thin to carry a label.

Under the whole stack, in condensed orange capitals four times the height of any breed name: MURPHY.

Why is the name set so much bigger than any breed on the chart?

Because the chart answers what he's made of, and the name is the only line that answers who he is.

A DNA test reports ancestry, and ancestry is a real, useful fact — it explains a coat, a build, a habit of herding the cat. But it's also a report about a category, several categories stacked on top of each other, and none of them describe the one dog standing in the kitchen. Scaling the name up past the point of subtlety is the design saying, plainly, that the categories are the setup and he's the point.

Why let the list trail off into slivers nobody can read?

Because that's what the result actually looks like, and tidying it would misreport what came back.

Most mixed-breed results don't resolve into three clean numbers. They resolve into two or three breeds you can name and then a long tail of 1–2% traces that the test can detect but can't isolate into anything meaningful on their own. That tail is the normal shape of a real result, not an error in the test or a flaw in the dog. Cutting the print off at the third bar would make a cleaner graphic and a less true one.

Does the order the breeds run in matter?

Only that it has to be the test's own order — highest percentage first, exactly as reported.

Reordering by which breed is more visually interesting, or burying an unflattering one lower than its number earns, turns the chart into a chosen story instead of a result. Part of what makes this design land is that it reads as an unedited printout. The moment a bar is out of sequence, a reader who has seen a real result stops trusting the rest of it.

Who owns the breed names or the report layout?

Nobody owns the shape of a percentage chart, and breed names describe a category, not a company. The same distinction holds for a breed-specific portrait — naming Staffordshire or Border Collie is naming a type, not quoting anybody's property. What a particular testing company does own is its own branded report — its logo, its exact colours, its house typeface — so the safer version rebuilds the bar-chart convention rather than copying one company's certificate. The dog's own result, the actual percentages, is his, whichever kit produced it.

What if the result comes back almost all one breed?

Then the chart is one tall bar and a name under it, and that's still the right design.

A dog who tests overwhelmingly as one breed doesn't need the tapering tail invented to look more mixed than he is — the chart for him is just short and blunt, and the name still carries the same weight relative to the bar above it. The rescue record works the same way: the format holds whether the specifics are dramatic or plain, because the format was never the joke.

The name field, again

A dominant single breed makes it tempting to lead with the breed instead, since there's finally a clean headline number available. But the chart works because the name outscales the number no matter what the number says — a thin sliver and a commanding majority both dissolve under a name set four times as large.

Does it print well?

Cleanly, because a bar chart in one flat colour is close to the easiest artwork this fabric handles.

Solid black bars with hard rectangular edges hold their shape at any wash count, and the tapering slivers stay legible because their edges are straight, not fine detail that fills in. Heather grey, oatmeal or a pale sand all read as the right kind of clinical background for a printed report. One flat second colour for the name is enough — black for the data, one accent for him — and adding a third only muddies a chart that works because it's plain.

How do I get one made?

Describe him at JustOG — the breeds and percentages from his result, in order, and his name. Pick a direction, drag the crop frame, see it composited on the real garment, and it's made to order and shipped.

Designs other people have published are in the shop.

Eleven breeds narrow to nothing, and one name stays exactly the size it started at.