"Whoa! He didn’t like that!" says Fluffy’s owner, when Fluffy [not his real name] has just experienced some singularly unpleasant invasion of privacy — most commonly a rectal thermometer, or rectal examination. I suppose that when our loved ones are distressed (just as at a funeral) we feel compelled to say something, simply to show that we noticed and that we care. The thing that always gets me is the note of surprise that invariably colors this exclamation. "Did you think that he would?", I ask. And if he did, what would you think then? Indeed, what might you say in response? Personally, I might be tempted to get a new dog.
It reminds me of the journal of one of the first explorers of the Grand Canyon. "If I had a dog who would sleep where I made my own bed last night, I would shoot him and bury him in an unmarked grave."
The first time that I experienced this indignity on my own person, the physician remarked that "It is more blessed to give than to receive." Hey, don’t quit your day job, pal.
While it is an often necessary procedure, it will never be a popular ice-breaker at Tupperware parties.