Under the knife.

I had, for some time, known that it would be better for the Hounds to have, how should I put this......ahem, their gonads off. ( Okay I could have said the snip, the 'special operation' or however delicately you want to put it. This does not change however the simple fact that my boys were going to have the old goolies off). I knew that the older the dogs got, the greater potential for complications. This did not detract in any way from the feelings of guilt that were overwhelming me. The hound's penkers were maturing to such a degree that it was obvious both boys were exceptionally proud of their respective packages. They had developed the knack of walking in complete unison, this had the result of both their parcels swinging at exactly the same time and direction. Synchronised bollocks if you like. I became obsessed. I canvassed a variety of friends and experts ( well actually my mate Pete ). Will they bark in high pitched barks when they are off ? ( Pete was particularly impressed with that one. )

This of course had to be discussed in direct correlation with the disadvantages that two sets of basset balls brings to the table. They were producing so much testosterone at the time that anything and everything was both attractive and 'definitely up for it.' Up for it' victims included each other, me, other dogs ( and indeed animals) and a host of inanimate objects that clearly were highly attractive to these young Basset studs. Inanimate objects included a pair of my jeans on the bedroom floor, a bag of dog food and a TV remote. Lewis had also begun to cyber bonk as I described it. This involved Lewis ( for no apparent reason) effectively shagging fresh air. He was also able to do this at anytime or location. He was particularly adept at cyber bonking whilst on the end of a lead and walking through built up areas. It was like taking a slinky toy for walk (remember those?) aside from the fact that it was also completely bloody embarrassing. His impeccable timing usually coincided with us walking past a group of young men wearing hooded tops. You know the type, about 14 years old, can of Stella in one hand, whilst texting their pregnant girlfriends with the other, this all whilst listening to a song about " slapping my bitch up with a blah blah" playing from the loudspeaker part of their mobile handset. Now usually I have the ability to deal with these young me in a way that is totally compatible with their Human Rights ( see"Love Thy Neighbour" Chapter of Blog), this may not fit in with the European Convention on Human Rights but I firmly believe my interpretation is about right. Placing a foul mouthed illiterate moron inside a wheelie bin is hardly going to scar him for life is it? On this occasion however my sheer embarrassment over whelmed and reduced my "wheelie bin hoodie hide and seek" prowess. The net result being that I had to bite my lip:

Hoodies " ere mate yer dog needs a wank"

Hoodies " ere mate yer Dachshund's a poof innee ? "

Me " He's a basset actually" ( see earlier chapters).

Hoodies "ere mate yer wanna get him a bird dunnya ?"

Me " Sigh (thanks Lewis)"

I had made my mind up. That was it, they were coming off. I made a bee line for the Vets and arranged for a pre op inspection of the "two veg" ( well actually , more accurately four veg). Herr GermanVet (see earlier chapters) had the boys on his bench one at a time. Lots of "hmmms, expelling of air and ohs" you know the type, like when you take your car into the garage because you can hear a rattling sound. 2.23 minutes later, both 'inspected' and I have bought the usually array of pointless dog related bollocks taking my bill up to a very reasonable £78.43p ( how do Vets make a living ? they must really struggle). Anyhow the date is set and both hounds are prepped. I've got a pickling jar at the ready ( well they gave my Grandma her gallstone's back, you never know) and the boys have had counselling. Well sort of, I gave them a dog biscuit.

Three days later and I'm back at the vets. Lewis and Monty had their overnight bags and both had clean underwear. I filled in my parent consent forms and met the Vet surgeon. No not Herr GermanVet but a very nice young Aussie Lady Vet.

"G'day mate should be over in no time we'll ring you if there are any problems." The down to earth friendly voice of Aussie Lady Vet reassured me all would be well. I left thirty three mobile numbers ALL my work numbers six e-mail accounts and a satellite mobile number. I had never left me hounds in the hands of strangers and was now like a man possessed. The dogs were completely stressed too. Well actually, not quite. Monty had found his way out the back of the vets and was effectively just having a mooch. Lewis had found the Vet's nurse who was rubbing his chest and ears in a "don't worry it will be fine" type way. Lewis was playing his best doey eyed soft mutt look and was clearly solely interested in having his lardy arse patted and rubbed.

It never ceased to amaze me on all visits to the vets how terrified most pets seemed of the place. I have a friend who's dog cowers in the back of the car if they even drive past it. My two conversly, can't wait to get in there. I have taken them shopping in the town centre and have been literally dragged there by them both. Lewis has to be dragged out and I end up having ridiculous conversations with a hound in the High Street.

" we have to go now its closing."

" we can come back tomorrow"

" the vet has to see another dog now"

Why on earth to we have these conversations ? !

An hour after leaving me hounds a dreaded call arrived. Nice Aussie Lady Vet telephoned.

" Good job they came in when they did, I started with Monty and discovered a hernia, he has probably had it since a puppy but I have now fixed it along with his snip. He will be groggy though as what should have been a 12 minute op became a 45 minute op......."

My heart sank. You become sick with worry although at least now he was 'fixed.' Lewis op passed without episode and I had me hounds back about 4 hours later. The Vet had said that Monty was awake and about (incredibly) within minutes. She said that Lewis had been a complete wimp.

They had attached a small heart rate monitor to them during the op. This required a small patch of fur being shaved from a front leg. Lewis had apparently turned his head and "offered" his leg like he was on his last legs even before he had received the anaesthetic. He then refused to move after the op and was adopting the " I am dying , you have killed me " theatrical attitude. they both however, accepted biscuits upon leaving although Lewis turned toward the nurse as if to say " I am too weak to eat this...."

Sadly I did not get any pickled Basset bollocks or even a Basset scrotum (would have made a great purse for small change and WHAT a talking point), but both boys are now 100% and their bonking has stopped.

Now what can the Vet do for stubborness ??? !!!!