A letter has arrived summoning me to parents’ evening to discuss Cydney’s progress. Yes, I am aware that Cydney is a dog. But it seems that my vet is not aware. Or if he is, he is doing a good impression of pretending she is entitled to the same checks and balances the state affords children.
‘Dear Miss Kite and Cydney (Byrecoc Cinemon Jonquil),’ began the letter. I called the spaniel to heel as I read, telling her, ‘Cydney, you better listen up because you’ve got mail.’
‘We have noticed,’ the letter went on, ‘that it is soon time for you to come in to the surgery for a visit.
‘This will give us the opportunity to say hello, complete a comprehensive health check and make sure there is adequate cover against preventable disease by administering the annual booster vaccinations.
‘This is also a great time to let us know how you and Cydney (Byrecoc Cinemon Jonquil) have been getting on…’
Getting on? What, in a social capacity? Or was the vet insinuating there might be subtle developmental problems requiring professional intervention — dog autism, perhaps?
‘…and answer any questions you may have.’ Questions? What questions? I’ve been the owner of this spaniel for three years. I think if I had a question I would have asked it by now. I did once have some questions, like, ‘Why won’t she sit no matter how much I ask? Why does she think she is human and entitled to sleep in my bed, under the duvet with her head on the pillow? Why will she only eat Lily’s Kitchen at £2.50 a tin?’
But the time for addressing those issues has past. I have given in to all of it. I have a gun dog who has become a lap dog.
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