Or maybe it’s the owners who look like their dogs. Nobody knows why this is the case, but there are numerous examples.
The wiry fell runner with a rough, lanky lurcher; a stocky bodybuilder with his equally squat-of-stature bulldog or the scruffy farmer, trousers fastened by bailer twine, accompanied by an unkempt collie with exactly the same basic but functional farm string in use as a makeshift lead. All have found, probably unwittingly, a kindred spirit in appearance as well as attitude.
One day this week, Bodhi the poodle cross came in to see me. Suffering from a bad bout of diarrhoea, he was subdued and lethargic and, at this time, did not embody the Sanskrit origins and spirit of his name: enlightened and empowered.
After the usual greetings with the new client, I couldn’t help but quiz Bodhi’s owner about his name.
“Is that Bodhi as in ‘if you want the ultimate, you’ve gotta be willing to pay the ultimate price’,” I wondered. “Because he does look exactly like him.”
The Bodhi I was referring to was the surfing bank robber-cum-adrenaline junky played by the late Patrick Swayze in the absolute classic cult 90s’ film Point Break.
Bodhi the poodle, with his fuzzy, curling and flowing locks really did look exactly like the eponymous star, but I suspected the film might not be well known amongst the dog-owning demographic of Wetherby and braced myself for an awkward and unknowing silence. I decided that a transient embarrassment was worth the risk when weighed up against the possibility of finding a fellow fan. So, I was pleasantly surprised by an answer in the affirmative.
“Yes, he is!” exclaimed his owner, “Point Break is my favourite film and I’ve always wanted a dog that looked like Patrick Swayze!”
I was delighted that I hadn’t made another fool of myself and I looked down to the bouffant dog to make another mental comparison. Despite the diarrhoea, his appealing eyes looked happy and his tail wagged constantly, so I knew he wasn’t too poorly. I had ample opportunity to postpone the clinical chat and examination and talk to a fellow enthusiast about the film.
We compared best lines and bemoaned the lack of universal popularity of such a great piece of cinema.
“You still surfing?” I imagined him asking. In my mind, I replied: “Every day.”
I quickly snapped out of my Bell’s Beach daydream and got on with the task in hand. Bodhi had a simple case of gastroenteritis, which was the reason for his week-long illness and nocturnal kitchen explosions. It would be straightforward to make him feel better and I administered the appropriate drugs.
I snapped Bodhi’s photo – it was the closest I’d get to meeting a film star and it would make a light-hearted Instagram post, even if not many people knew what I was on about when I mentioned the “50-year storm”.
Bodhi’s owner promised to send me some additional photos, apparently, there were loads where he looked even more like the swash buckling hero. Sure enough, later that day, my phone pinged with a veritable album of Bodhi photographs. In some, the setting sun reflected off his curly locks. At the end of the photo album, there was a sentence which made my job worthwhile.
“Many thanks for looking after Bodhi. He is a lot better already x.”
■ Channel 5’s The Yorkshire Vet continues with its twelfth series on Tuesdays at 8pm.