Bark­ing up the wrong tree

Country Life Every Week - - Town & Country Notebook - Res­i­dent agony un­cle Kit Hes­keth-har­vey solves your dilem­mas

QAs a cou­ple of a cer­tain age, my wife and I have all the nec­es­sary pa­per­work in place to deal with our es­tate once we’re gone. How­ever, she has be­come ob­sessed with the no­tion that the dogs should be ‘pro­vided for’. I refuse to be the man who in­cluded an­i­mals in his will—how can I as­sure her that the chil­dren won’t send them to Bat­tersea?

D. H., West Sus­sex A Have you seen Bat­tersea lately? There are cloud­capped tow­ers of river-view pent­houses, peace­fully aban­doned by their Chi­nese own­ers, and lamp-posts by Thomas Heather­wick. The grotty old Sains­bury’s has been razed to make way for Par­tridges, with aisles chock-full of fil­leted, erm, par­tridges, for poochy din-dins.

It has im­preg­nable se­cu­rity, with the new Amer­i­can Em­bassy geared up for nu­clear at­tack, and le­gions of staff tak­ing sham­pooed shih-tzus to the park for their thrice-daily lat­tes (the dogs that is, not the staff). If you can get past the ea­ger grid­lock, it’s Xanadu, dar­ling.

As for the dogs’ home—oh my dog! Paul O’grady’s lo­ca­tion fees have trans­formed it into a ca­nine Clar­idge’s. I would go now, this sec­ond, straight to the so­lic­i­tor and add one small cod­i­cil: that your chil­dren be sent to Bat­tersea along with the dogs.

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