I’m going to cut to the chase here. This post is about Frank’s balls. Now he’s 6 months old, opening gambits from other dog walkers have moved on from the rather jocular, ‘how many shoes have you got left?’, to a more serious, ‘oh, he’s a boy, are you getting him done?’
Answering this question correctly depends on which side of the ball- loping-off-fence the inquirer falls. There are those who believe that castration leaves your dog emasculated, timid and open to bullying. These people believe your dog will get laughed out the park not only because he looks like a lampshade. See exhibit a)
Sorry, that is an actual lampshade.
That’s what I mean.
But, will also be made to suffer a number of jibes about their frizzy, Kevin Keegan-esque curls which apparently, after the op, replace their once lovely glossy coat.
Conversely, the castration camp believe that leaving fido’s crown jewels in tact will in turn leave you with a boisterous, sex-obsessed, walking hormone. A kind of furry Captain Flashhart that will try to shag anything with a pulse. Actually , it doesn’t have to have a pulse. The more inanimate, the better – one friend’s dog enjoys giving her rabbit fur-lined boots some loving.
And so I’m left wavering somewhere in the middle. I’m considering just getting one off for now and seeing how he goes. Is that cruel? Half of me does buy the argument that a dog pulsing with testosterone would be more likely to hump the soft furnishings, but surely we can teach him not to do that. That’s what we do with teenage boys isn’t it? We don’t snip their balls off as soon as they start taking an unhealthy interest in womens’ gymnastics on TV or salivating over Girls Aloud. (Two activities my husband still enjoys). In extreme cases, I must admit I am for teenage castration. For example, Bieber – I don’t expect we’d have to watch him gyrating about a swimming pool if he’d been ‘done’. Similarly, the op could have saved Harry from One Direction a whole load of hassle with his Mum’s friends, but overall I think it’s a bad policy.
And so Frank, for now, will be spared the indignity of the head collar, the curly coat and the general derision of the other dogs in the park. Until, that is, he starts eyeing up my Uggs.