In defence of badgers

My dog was bitten by an adder last week. Jessie had been snuffling around in bracken a few yards from where I was walking when I suddenly heard this anguished yelp, followed by still more disquieting, even harrowing yelps. I knew immediately exactly what had happened. I have been boring my family for months with warnings about where not to take Jessie for a walk, because of the adders. They think adders are a manifestation of my warped imagination and do not really exist, possibly something dreamed up by the QAnon people. They never believe me when I tell them anything about animals and yet – ironically, you might think – it is one of the very few things I do not lie to them about.

I was not lying about the adders. Poor Jessie, now in great pain and whining, was bundled in the back of my car and driven 20 miles to Alston – in a different county – the site of the nearest vet with anti-venom.