Me: Dave’s been behaving oddly recently.
Nell: Too much pasta?
Me: No, it isn’t anything he’s eaten. We even took him to the vets.
Nell: Why did you do that?
Me: Because he wasn’t himself, Nell. We wanted to make sure there was nothing wrong.
Nell: And is there?
Me: No. He still weighs 50 kilos. His bloods are fine and all his bits and bobs are in perfect working order.
Nell: I didn’t need to know that.
Me: It’s a great relief.
Nell: Is it?
Me: Yes. He was very well-behaved during all the examinations and accepted small treats gratefully.
Nell: Of course.
Me: Darling Big Brave Beautiful Boy.
Nell: So what’s wrong?
Me: We thinks it’s the young deer. He can smell them on his walk.
Nell: Oh, I see.
Me: He was on the search again yesterday, and so was Harriet, but it doesn’t bother her as much.
Nell: You know it probably wasn’t the deer at all.
Me: Why?
Nell: It’s far more likely to be a lady dog on heat. There are so many dogs in your village and lots of them go on your walk.
Me: You’re right.
Nell: And David is like this every year.
Me: Is he?
Nell: Yes. Several times a year, in fact. And you always forget.
Me: I do, don’t I? Deer, oh deer.
Nell: Good grief.
Me: See what I did there?
Nell: Yes, very droll.
Me: At least he’s had a full MOT and we know he’s absolutely fine.
Nell: The poor animal has been poked and prodded and you say he’s fine.
Me: He didn’t mind at all.
Nell: He was publicly weighed and his weight was discussed openly.
Me: I know.
Nell: Would you like that?
Me: No.
Nell: I rest my case.
Me: Sorry.
