Man’s Best Friend?

Dear Mum,

The neighbour’s dog is barking incessantly and I can’t focus on anything. To channel my frustration at this constant background noise I’m keeping a ‘dog diary,’ recording the start and finish time of the dog’s daily choral slaughter.

Some might regard this as obsessive and sad. “How can she be so cold and unfeeling to resent a creature simply exercising its voice?”

I think it’s a great psychological assignment to channel my emotion plus its satisfying to see how often this dog is at it. I’m not barking up the wrong tree – my diary proves his howling is unrelenting.

I don’t mind admitting I’m not an animal person. Perhaps this is down to Kate and I not being allowed pets when we were young – you not liking dogs, Dad not liking cats and neither of you liking anything smaller than the previous. I must confess that, when I was young, I considered myself deprived, taking for granted a nice smelling house and the absence of trips to the vet when Snuffles was looking off-colour.

Today, however, I don’t mind admitting I have an issue with dogs. To be honest, anything that smells my crotch on first acquaintance isn’t going to be my best friend.

My issue with the mutt began with the claim that “he’s just being friendly.” I wouldn’t mount a new friend’s shoulders, scratching their arms while heaving a pungent stench over their face. So please remove your ‘friendly’ dog before I accuse it of harassment.

The dog I am welcoming of is the guide dog. There is something about their placid nature, calmly taking control of situations, not put off by surrounding human commotion (i.e. no nasal investigation of groin regions) and greeting all with dignified patience.

I find it very refreshing to witness a dog caring for a human, rather than an adult cooing over a dog in patronising worship. To me, the guide dog is top dog, and all others will have my respect if they only kept schtum when I want a lie-in of a Sunday.

Love from a rather disgruntled daughter x x x