Neutering my dog is the right thing to do. So why does it feel wrong? 20

IS HE whole?” Snowy’s owner asked, eyeing our dog suspiciously. My other-half and I exchanged confused looks that simultaneously morphed into eye rolls. Dog owners, our new tribe, can be a strange bunch, we silently agreed.

But this was seven months ago. We weren’t exactly up on the very particular lexicon that comes with having a four-legged friend.

Now we know he was asking if our dog had been neutered – and I suspect, by now, our dog knows too, as today he has a date with our local vet’s scalpel.

This was why a survey released by Dogs Trust this week caught my eye. The animal charity found that two in five people didn’t have their dog neutered because they thought it was unnecessary, while half as many again just didn’t see the benefit.

Thanks to the local vet, I’m well aware of the benefits. I know it will prolong his life, keep him healthier and prevent any unwanted puppies. Yet, if I’m honest, I’d prefer not to be putting him under the knife because I just can’t shake the feeling we’re taking away a fundamental part of who he is.

I didn’t always feel like this. I remember once scoffing loudly when a colleague told me her husband refused to ‘fix’ their Boxer because he didn’t want to take away his manhood.

But a few years, and one dog staring into the precipice of sterility, later, I can see his point.

Some of the changes, like weight gain, laziness and increased appetite, we can anticipate and mitigate against but there’s a niggling suspicion he’ll lose his exuberance, that his loveable stubborn streak will vanish, and his lust for life just won’t be the same.

Then there’s the question of psychological damage. We’ve all read the articles attesting to the stress and trauma men go through when they lose a testicle to cancer. Post-surgery, when he’s playing in the park with his pals, will our pup feel less of a dog? Will he get embarrassed when the other dogs come sniffing and find him, well, wanting?

One thing I do know is that when we pick him up this evening, he’ll gaze up at us from his newly acquired ‘cone of shame’ like the centre of his universe that we are. And I will feel like a terrible person, a real-life Cruella de Vil. I guess doing the right thing doesn’t always leave you feeling warm and fuzzy.