Out for the count

I once overheard a so-called expert saying that Labradors can’t count; she was arguing that I wouldn’t notice how many handfuls of biscuits I had been given at any one time. Presumably she attributed her own obesity to mathematical genius but that’s beside the point. Naturally, I said nothing to shatter her illusions and in fact, my arrival at paradise after that last hellhole where I was tied up all day compensated for the stricter regime at mealtimes. So I let her ill-judged comment pass.

But it still eats away at me. How do they think I know when it’s time to sit behind the front door? How am I supposed to know when to patrol the boundary if I can’t count? It seems that this misconception extends to vets too. Listen, I know the drill; I’ve watched the medical dramas. No one asked me to count backwards from ten. No one bothered to tell me afterwards just how many teeth they had extracted so it’s just as well I can count. Seven. Yes, seven teeth. Gone, just like that.

He went up in my estimation for a little while. She, the master of understatement and stupidity, asked ‘I wonder if he’s in a lot of pain?’ to which He replied ‘Well, I think anyone who had seven teeth out would be.’ She keeps covering me up with a blanket. Like that’s going to help. What I need is more drugs. Only thing is that this painkilling stuff is playing havoc with my eczema and chewing it is tricky to say the least. All She keeps going on about is how nice my breath is. I bet they’ll be treating my teeth like jewels having seen the huge bill. In fact, I think that my whole body will become a temple, that She might be a little more respectful and not fall over me so often now that I’ve cost them so much. He made a very tasteless joke about getting a refund if I didn’t make it so he’s just been demoted again. She’s talking about giving me a bath and washing my blankets. Because I’m worth it, of course and there’s nothing like having to count the pennies for the vet’s bill to remind them. They keep smiling at me and stroking my head. Who says money can’t buy happiness?