If Catherine Tate’s going to save bulldogs, she’ll need more bite
Human beings are fantastically selfabsorbed creatures. You only have to look at the TV schedules — they are all about us and our health, our diets, our wrinkles, our sugar intake . . . a million selfish worries.
It takes a rare documentary, such as the superlative Blue Planet II with its stark warnings about plastic pollution, to force us to turn our attention to the health of animals.
So comic actress Catherine Tate deserves congratulations for switching the primetime spotlight onto medical issues in dogs, during the week after Crufts, with Saving The British Bulldog (BBC1).
It’s just a pity that her focus was so narrow — on a single breed. She made strong points, but they could have been condensed into 20 minutes. and the time saved might have been used to highlight massive problems that TV too often ignores, such as puppy farming.
make no mistake, she was right to fear for the bulldog. It might look cute, like a baby Winston Churchill, but the breed is so inbred that almost every animal suffers breathing problems.
The laboured snoring sound of a panting bulldog is caused, as Catherine discovered, by its flattened snout, which forces its palate back into its throat – blocking the airway. That’s not all. Folds of prickly fur on the muzzle can rub the eyeballs. and 80 per cent of bulldogs have to be born by Caesarean because the mothers simply aren’t healthy enough to whelp normally.
Catherine’s heart was in the right place. She adores mutts: ‘I certainly like dogs much more than people,’ she said earnestly, ‘and I don’t think I’m the only one.’
But it takes more than a wellknown face with a sincere delivery to make absorbing TV.
This show wheezed along like an overweight pug, with frequent slumps and pauses.
Catherine’s wordy questions didn’t help. She will never ask: ‘How many?’, preferring to say: ‘Can you talk me through what kinds of numbers are involved?’
The statistics were laboured too. We were told three times that there are four times as many pedigree bulldogs in the uK as there were in 2003, up from 2,000 to 8,000.
all the raw material for an important documentary was here, but it needed much more work. This lacked bite.
Betsy the tricolour puss had plenty of bite and claws to match, though her devoted owner Carol refused to believe it on The Supervet (C4).
Professor noel Fitzpatrick and his dedicated veterinary nurses often seem sad to say goodbye to their patients. noel will even squeeze into their cages and crouch there, comforting them, like a giant hamster.
But no one was too eager to snuggle with Betsy. She hissed and growled like an angry lion, and she’d have your arm off too if she could . . . until Carol returned.
Then she was Betsy the angel Cat again.
By the time noel had worked his magic, she was Bionic Betsy, with a metal knee to replace a cancer-ridden joint. You still wouldn’t want to risk cuddling her, though.
Beau the Tibetan terrier, who needed a hip replacement, was much more huggable.
Owners Toni and Leanne sighed that their pet was a born princess, though they didn’t do much to discourage this tendency: Beau’s vast wardrobe included 20 Christmas jumpers.
Of all these adorable pampered pets, Rosie the Staffordshire bull terrier was the canniest.
She had a bad back, so her owners Elaine and Keith had to push her along the seafront promenade in a toddler buggy.
Rosie rode like a queen, much to Elaine and Keith’s pride. any dog-lover will understand.