Me: When are you going to talk to me again?
Nell: I don’t know.
Me: The sun is shining so I thought we might go down to the beach later.
Nell: Maybe.
Me: It won’t be no scones for ever, Nell. You just have to lose a few kilos.
Nell: I am a lady Labrador of a certain age, not a whippet.
Me: I know that.
Nell: The indignity of having one’s weight discussed publicly.
Me: Yes. Unfortunately the scales are in reception.
Nell: How would you like it if you had to weigh yourself in the front garden with people saying hello and discussing the weather all around you?
Me: I wouldn’t like it at all. In fact it sounds like one of those awful nightmares.
Nell: Exactly.
Me: But the vet said you are doing really well otherwise.
Nell: A Labrador cannot survive on a handful of dry biscuit alone.
Me: Of course not. I’ll ask Poppy to prepare lots of steamed vegetables and some chicken.
Nell: And then I have a needle stuck in me and something shoved up my nose.
Me: It was time for your boosters. The puppies and Poppy are going tomorrow.
Nell: Well, you need to prepare them. You know how much David hates a weigh-in and as for needles.
Me: Don’t you think it would be best just to take them? They might not get in the car otherwise.
Nell: You have a point. Going to the vets is not something anyone does willingly. The puppies dislike it and Poppy is extremely strong-willed.
Me: That’s why I didn’t tell you.
Nell: As a mature Labrador I would have accepted it.
Me: I’m not so sure about that, Nell.
Nell: Well, we will never know now, will we?
Me: No. Sorry.
