I’ll admit it: people who treat dogs like babies was one of my pet peeves.
As a mum of two I could never quite grasp that a pet – as gorgeous as they are – could be spoken about as if they were children or – even more annoyingly – called “fur babies”.
But, after bringing home a new puppy, I’m a convert. I have now joined the millions of dog lovers across the UK who spam their social media accounts with endless pet pics and worry about their pooch’s general health and happiness.
Arthur is the new addition to our family: a nine week old Dachshund who is about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.
I’m known in my family as a little bit of an ice queen – roundly rejecting lengthy hugs and never getting too emotional. But this little pup has changed that.
The kids adore him, my husband shows off pictures of him to (probably) bored colleagues and he basically now rules the roost.
“He slept through,” I’ll announce proudly or “he’s had a wee outside!” – the echoes of being a first time parent are definitely there.
When we take him out and about he gets showed off in cable knit jumpers and tweed dog coats. Yes, I know – I can hear the eye rolls.
He’s definitely a little superstar. We took him out to our usual weekend haunt this Saturday and could barely walk through the town without people looking over at him, wanting a cuddle or imparting some good advice on how to make sure he settles in properly.
Things had been going really well until Sunday. My son George came running up stairs to tell us Arthur had been sick.
Just as I was consulting Dr Google it happened again – as well as a very unfortunately located bout of diarrhoea.
“Take him straight to the vets,” instructed the expert on the internet.
As it was Sunday the vets we’d registered him with wasn’t open and so it was off to the ‘emergency vets’, located on a nearby industrial estate.
We got in the car, got belted up and then – the wholly unexpected sobbing started. “What if he’s seriously ill?” I wailed to my husband.
“What if he’s poisoned himself?” It brought back all those panicked dashes to the GPs when my kids, now, 10, and 12, were poorly and we were quite frantic with worry.
We arrived at the vets and it was like a dog A&E. We sat. And waited. Arthur was his usual happy self, snuggled up on my knee.
But it soon became apparent that there were other dog owners also sick with worry – and for very good reason.
One couple arrived with a beautiful Golden Labrador and the lady owner looked heartbroken as her beloved pet foamed at its mouth and was rushed straight through to see the vet.
Another dog was carried in on a piece of Tarpaulin and was bleeding. It seemed as though their pet might have been involved in a car crash.
For another couple the news sounded just horrendous – we could hear them thank the vet for doing all he could and they left, crying, without their dog.
The experience was like seeing first hand what really makes us a nation of dog lovers and understanding why.
They’re not only friends and companions, they become part of the family who will always need loving and protecting, no matter how old they get.
After a wait of an hour or so we finally got our turn to see the vet who was totally unworried by Arthur’s symptoms – and as he started hiccupping asked if that could have been the issue.
I laughed knowing it was the kind of anxious new mum experience they’ve probably seen a million times over.
After his vitals were checked he was given an anti sickness injection and some medication and we were sent home, feeling reassured…Although with a bill of £400, also very relieved we followed advice and had Arthur insured on the day we brought him home.
On the way out I met a lady with a super tiny little female King Charles Spaniel with one eye. She’d been adopted and her owner had brought her in after she’d not eaten for four days.
I sensed the lady needed to explain what had happened and some reassurance it was all going to be okay.
“It’s just such a worry, isn’t it?” she asked. “Yes, it is,” I answered. And I really meant it.
