Man's best mate sure knows how to guilt trip

Colin and his sad eyes, which turned to pools of pure despair after the surgery. Photo / Matt Heath

Sad eyes make practical act of neutering seem ultimate betrayal.

We have a dog. His name is Colin. He's an 8-month-old miniature schnauzer, jack russell cross. He's my best buddy. I love him. He used to love me. Now he hates my guts.

One of my favourite parts of the day was arriving home to an excited Colin. No matter what had happened in the real world, Colin was happy to see me. He had my back.

Recently however, his cuddles took a sinister sexual turn. Colin started humping my leg. Actually, he started humping everything. The couch, other dogs, others dogs' heads. Not humping humping. Just simulated. But it was ruining his cute vibe. His balls had to go.

Two days out from the neutering, we sat Colin down and told him what was going to happen to him. Unfortunately, neutering is not one of his words. He only knows "sit", "come", "shake hands" and "dance boy dance".

Buzz, my 5-year-old, overheard the conversation. He wasn't happy. It's hard for a kid to understand why mum and dad would want to do what we were planning to do to a family member.

"Please don't cut off Colin's willy Dad," he begged. I tried to explain. "Not his sausage son, his beans ... and not me, the vet." Buzz was relieved. He was imagining his Dad hacking at the dog's johnson with a pocket knife. He was imagining a dog that could no longer wee. He figured one day Colin would lift his leg and explode. But losing the bits below the willy? "No problem". In Buzz's 5-year-old mind those bits have no real use. If a vet wants to nip those off, fine.

If only he knew his own origins.

Colin's last supper was a sombre affair. I couldn't bring myself to pat him. No Judas kiss from me. He knew something was up and at the vet the next morning he was shaking with fear. My partner had tears in her eyes. I couldn't handle it. I abandoned ship and went to work. I figured if I wasn't there he would blame the missus for the snip. Not me. I was wrong.

I arrived home that night laden with treats for my best bud. But I didn't receive my normal K9 hero's welcome.

No, Colin wouldn't even look at me. Maybe it was the drugs, maybe it was the heater he was sitting beside making him sleepy. But Colin's eyes, which are sad at the best of times, had become pools of pure despair. I had betrayed my friend. Hurt him. Essentially I had paid people to cut

Was he communicating? Was this a scene from Dr Doolittle?a mate's balls off.

When Colin finally looked at me, boy did he lay it on thick. He rolled on his back, placed his left paw over his ex bits, then dramatically covered his eyes with the back of his right. Was he communicating? Was this a scene from Dr Doolittle?

Was Colin running through his mind the things he was going to miss out on in life? Never to have children, never to love a bitch.

In that moment did he realise he was destined to live out his life as a sexless beast who exists only to keep the Heath family happy? A cuddly mascot. Never to become a man. Or was he just scratching the annoying stitches where his nuts used to be?

One thing is for sure, it was an intense moment of animal personification for me.

Too intense. I had to abandon ship again. Off to the movies. Mission Impossible: Rogue Nation. Bloody good.

There is no doubt that Colin's bits needed to go. For the good of the family, the nation and Colin himself. Chipped, immunised, clipped and tagged, he is now ready to join society. However, just because it was the right thing to do doesn't mean it didn't hurt.

For Colin, the price was his balls.

For me the price was much higher. I have lost the trust of my best friend.

Having said that, it has been less than 24 hours, he might come right.