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I can't make you become top dog

Vic Barlow
23/ 4/2008

IN THE ten years I’ve been writing this column, I can honestly say I’ve never been offered a bribe. I’ve had the odd free jaffa cake and a few knuckle bones for the dogs, but never anything substantial. That is until my editor decided to run a Pet Idol competition.

I didn’t realise how important it was for owners to show off their pets. I’ve been promised all sorts of stuff if I can only swing the judges. One young lady even offered to let me stroke her parakeet if I could make it a winner. (Who’s a cheeky girl then?)

Even Mrs B has put me under pressure to get her beloved Max in the frame. It’s just amazing how blind owners are to their pet’s inadequacies.

Despite being a golden retriever, Max has the intelligence of a creosote post. If I drop a biscuit on the kitchen floor, he can’t find it or even navigate his way through a door left slightly ajar. The only time Mrs B entered him in a pet show, he was beaten by a goldfish.

Max is 11 years old and unable to find his own tail, but according to Mrs B he’s an international class retriever honed to the knife-edge of athletic prowess. It’s all in the eye of the beholder.

So, before you ask me to promote your dog, pig, rabbit, cat or gerbil, take a long, hard look at him/her. If his teeth are usually embedded in your arm or he smells like a pair of old trainers, you may want to reconsider.

If his photograph looks like a Doctor Who poster or he has the girth of a hippo, you may want to keep his talents to yourself. I know you won’t, but I thought I’d mention it.

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