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  • Saturday Wrap, from The Week
    A free speech debate, flag waving, and for the love of dogs

     
    briefing of the week

    Woof! Britain's love affair with dogs

    The UK's canine population is booming. What does that mean for man's best friend?

    How many dogs are there in Britain?
    No one knows for sure: there's no dog census. But the most rigorous study, in the journal Nature, found that in 2019 there were 12.64 million dogs in the UK. The industry body UK Pet Food estimates that by 2024, there were 13.5 million dogs – with 36% of Britain's 28.7 million households owning at least one. This puts the UK high up the (not strictly scientific) global league of dog ownership per capita, but still some distance below the US and the leader, dog-mad Hungary. Dog ownership levels range from hotspots such as Telford (8.2 dogs per 20 people) to deserts such as central London (about one per 20 people). What's certain, though, is that Britain's dog population has risen sharply: in 2011, it was thought to be a mere 8.3 million. According to The Kennel Club, Britain's most popular breeds in 2024 were labradors, cocker spaniels, French bulldogs, springer spaniels, miniature dachshunds, golden retrievers, bull terriers and German shepherds. Of course, that doesn't account for the many mixed breeds, such as the now-ubiquitous poodle crosses.

    Why do we have so many?
    It's in our cultural DNA: dog remains found at Grime's Graves in Norfolk suggest they were kept as pets in Britain as early as 4,600BC. The reasons for having them are well known: they provide companionship; children like them; they encourage exercise and social lubrication in a culture that values polite, low-pressure interactions. Britain also has plentiful parks and open spaces where they can be walked. But the Covid pandemic – and the move towards hybrid or home-working – has driven massive recent increases in ownership. According to Petlog/The Kennel Club, there were 351,000 registrations in 2021, up nearly 40% from 252,000 the year before. During the pandemic, the average price of a puppy more than doubled, to £1,900.

    What effect is the increase having?
    The surge in dog ownership during the lockdowns led to the phenomenon of "pandemic puppies" – dogs bought by inexperienced first-time owners, which are widely thought to be poorly trained and unsocialised. This, in turn, has been blamed in part for a rise in the number of dog attacks: in the past 12 years, the number of dog bites requiring medical attention has almost doubled in England and Wales, from 6,647 in 2011-12 to 10,776 in 2023-24. In 2022, 10 people died from dog bite injuries. And there are other problems, too, such as a surge in the "worrying" and killing of livestock in rural areas.

    Do dogs affect the environment?
    Considerably. A medium-sized dog gets through about 80kg of food per year. Britons buy over a billion kilos annually, at a cost of some £2 billion. If dogs eat meat, as most do, their carbon and wider environmental footprint is heavy. Globally, pets are thought to eat around 20% of the world's meat and fish. And all this has to go somewhere: the average pooch produces a tonne of faeces (and 2,000 litres of urine) over a 13-year lifespan. This mountain of dog poo mostly goes to landfill in Britain, though some is burnt for energy – if it is disposed of properly. The leaving of dog mess in public places – outlawed by the Dogs (Fouling of Land) Act 1996 – has become more of a problem in the past few years, according to a range of sources and surveys. Then there's the direct impact dogs have on nature: dogs can disturb wildlife by chasing or scaring ground-nesting birds and small mammals. They also shed toxic flea treatments into waterways.

    How much do we spend on them?
    More and more. Battersea Dogs & Cats Home estimates that a dog costs about £2,000 per year, but the sky's the limit. Food alone is about £360 per year, per dog. Then there are vet's fees, which have risen by some 50% since 2015, not least because private equity firms have "rolled up" smaller clinics and demanded big profits. If your dog eats something harmful, it can easily cost £4,000 to treat, according to Insurance Business magazine. Treatments for elbow dysplasia, a common cause of lameness in large breeds, can pass £50,000. Closely correlated with these big bills is the growth of insurance: around 4.4 million Britons have pet insurance; in 2023, the market was worth £1.75 billion. The average policy costs £206 a year, according to MoneySuperMarket (though excesses are often large and payout limits relatively low). Then there's dog walking (about £15 per hour in London) and kennels, if you want an overseas holiday (£30-£40 per night, according to Rover.com).

    Is it worth it?
    Who's to say? But what is clear is that the UK has embraced a global trend for the "humanisation of dogs": treating them like family members, and attributing human emotions and behaviours to them. A poll of 2,000 UK cat and dog owners by MyPet.com discovered that 81% think of their pet as one of the loves of their lives, while 41% see them as their child. This has driven new fads. The grooming industry is booming. At £25 to £100 per visit, it is now worth some £420 million a year, and is growing at 6% per year. There are pet spas, and even pet clubs: WagWorks in Fulham offers "daycare, healthcare, training and grooming". Dogs are given human-like treats, such as dog ice cream, dog cookies and dog crisps, and human-like health treatments: nearly one in 500 dogs, according to the Royal Veterinary College, is now on fluoxetine, or "doggy Prozac".

    How does this affect the dogs?
    It has made them live longer: a 2024 Liverpool John Moores study found the median life expectancy of UK dogs is 12.5 years, double what it was 40 years ago. It has also, however, made them fatter: about half of British dogs are estimated to be obese or overweight. For their owners, though, the relationship seems very satisfactory: in a survey by the Dogs Trust last year, 98% of dog owners said their pets make them happy.

    A brief history of dogs
    The dog, Canis familiaris – a selectively bred descendant of the grey wolf – is believed to have been first domesticated some 23,000 years ago, in Siberia. From there, dogs accompanied humans in dispersing east to the Americas and west across Eurasia, reaching England by about 7,500BC. Most were used as watchdogs or for hunting; some were trained to fight alongside soldiers; others were later used for herding and rat-catching. In time, smaller dogs were adopted as pets: excavations at the Silchester Roman archaeological site in Hampshire have unearthed poodle-sized skeletons of dogs that were probably imported from abroad – some of the earliest "toy" breeds in England. From the 17th century, dogs became potent symbols of social status, as seen in Charles II's spaniels, or the dogs in Gainsborough’s portraits. Most of today's breeds emerged thanks to Victorian dog fanciers, who bred dogs to conform to "breed standards". Such standards give a clear idea of a dog's likely size, looks and perhaps temperament, but have also led to much inbreeding, and the development of exaggerated and unhealthy characteristics in many popular breeds, from dachshunds to pugs to labradors.

     
     
    controversy of the week

    A free-speech martyr?

    Lucy Connolly walked free from HMP Peterborough last week – "but she is not going back to a quiet life", said Tom Slater in The Spectator. The Northampton childminder has become a "totem" in the free speech wars, having served "the longest sentence ever handed down in the UK for a single social-media post". In 2024, after three girls were stabbed to death at a Taylor Swift-themed dance class in Southport, and as rumours swirled that the killer was an asylum seeker, Connolly, 41, fired off a "life-ruining" tweet: "Mass deportation now, set fire to all the f**king hotels full of the bastards for all I care … If that makes me racist so be it." Connolly deleted her post within four hours – but days later, after anti-migrant riots erupted, she was hauled into police custody and denied bail. Desperate to get back to her 12-year-old daughter, she pleaded guilty to inciting racial hatred, "hoping for leniency". Instead, "she received a heftier sentence than some of the rioters": an outrageous 31 months, of which she served 12 before her early release. Connolly, who has won the backing of Team Trump, has struck a defiant tone – promising to "continue to fight" for free speech.

    To her supporters, Connolly has become a sort of "Joan of Arc" figure, said Sean O'Grady in The Independent. Nigel Farage wants to take her with him when he talks to the US Congress about free speech in the UK; a sycophantic interview with her in the Telegraph ended on a hysterical, "Cry God for Harry, England, and Lucy Connolly". But Connolly is no martyr. She clearly broke the law and accepted as much, having incited violence in a tweet viewed 310,000 times and reposted 940 times before its deletion. She had previously posted about Somalians, along with a vomiting emoji. And she said she'd "play the mental health card" if arrested. Innocent, she is not. Nor is Connolly a victim of two-tier justice, said The Daily Telegraph. Many complain she was treated differently to Labour councillor Ricky Jones, who was acquitted despite calling "for the throats of far-right protesters to be cut". But that's because, unlike Jones, Connolly chose to forgo a jury trial, and she pleaded guilty. Yes, her 31-month punishment was too harsh. But that's a sentencing issue, not a free speech one.

    Still, the legal threshold for incitement has clearly "become too low", said Kenan Malik in The Observer. If we want to avoid people going to prison for merely saying hateful things, we'd do better to follow the US's "Brandenburg test", which applies only if speech is intended to incite "imminent lawless action" and is likely to result in that. Connolly's vile-but-vague tweet doesn't meet that threshold, said Daniel Hannan in the Daily Mail; nor does the rap group Kneecap's grim assertion that "the only good Tory is a dead Tory". Neither are heroic figures, by the way. But if you believe in free speech, that means defending the rights of unheroic people "who nonetheless deserve justice".

     
     

    Spirit of the age

    There's a new Gen Z stereotype doing the rounds on TikTok: the "performative male". This is a man who makes ostentatious attempts to impress progressive women. The "performative male" may be seen posing with an oat-milk matcha, pretending to read "The Bell Jar" or carrying a tote bag bearing feminist slogans, says The Guardian. He may even carry tampons for "women in need".

     
     
    Viewpoint

    Booming in the office

    "A tribunal recently ruled on a complaint by an older worker disturbed by younger members of staff socialising. As a representative of Gen Z, I'd like to issue this considered response: pot, kettle. I sit in an open-plan office surrounded by colleagues in their 40s, 50s and 60-plus. Let me tell you: there is a good reason I have noise-cancelling headphones. Boomer office volumes are obnoxious. Where colleagues my age use WhatsApp or messaging systems to communicate, our elders tend to just shout from one end to the other. Then there are the phones. Why are they never on silent? Why are you taking the call at your desk? We have rooms precisely for this purpose."

    Anonymous in The Times

     
     
    talking point

    Waving the flag: sinister, or just patriotic?

    Something "sinister" has been happening in English towns and cities of late, said Sean O'Grady in The Independent: people have taken to climbing up lampposts on ladders, and tying St George's crosses or Union flags to them. The trend first took hold in the Birmingham suburb of Weoley Castle in mid-July; since then, the hashtag "Operation Raise the Colours" has spread in "patriotic" circles on social media (including on accounts with links to the far-right). Large numbers of flags have been hoisted in places such as Worcester, Bradford, Newcastle and Norwich. Elsewhere, St George's crosses have been daubed on mini-roundabouts. Some councils, such as Tower Hamlets in east London, have responded by removing flags; but others (notably those run by Reform UK), have encouraged the trend. They shouldn't. At a time when tensions over asylum hotels and small boats are running high, the Raise the Colours campaign feels like an attempt to appropriate a "beloved national symbol" for divisive ends.

    Sinister? Flying the flag is "perhaps one of the most benign demonstrations of national pride possible", said Fin de Pencier in The Spectator. Yet it's being treated by some as a "revolutionary act". Every nation flies its national flag on public buildings and in public spaces, said Melanie McDonagh in London's The Standard – and in most cases, it's rightly viewed as a "marker of mild patriotism". Yet, outside of international football tournaments, the England flag has come to be viewed as a "problematic" expression of "toxic" nationalism. It's absurd, said the Daily Mail. The Scots venerate their saltire, the Welsh their dragon. Even the Palestinian standard flies in many British cities. "Why then should the English be denied a similar right" to display the Union flag or the St George's cross?

    As a nation, we do seem to have "tied ourselves in knots" over this issue, said Stefano Hatfield in The i Paper. When councils raise Ukrainian flags over public buildings, it's seen as a "gesture of solidarity". Palestinian flags are a sign of protest and compassion. Yet if people fly the St George's cross, they're branded "jingoistic or reactionary". But the thing is, "Brits have never hitherto been disposed towards waving the flag about", said Rod Liddle in The Spectator. I've always held that any country with lots of flags on show "is feeling very insecure about itself and is headed for trouble". This, I fear, is the position the UK finds itself in now. The Government should be asking itself why Operation Raise the Colours has taken off, "and why quite so many people seem to be taking part in it".

     
     

    It wasn't all bad

    Ethel Caterham, the world's oldest person and the last surviving Edwardian, celebrated her 116th birthday last week. Caterham was born in Hampshire in 1909, when Edward VII still had a year left on the throne – and became the world's oldest living person in April, after the death of Sister Inah Canabarro Lucas, a Brazilian nun. She said that she was spending her birthday with her family at her care home in Lightwater, Surrey. Asked for the secret to her longevity, Caterham, who drove until she was 97 and played bridge in her centenarian years, said: "I do what I like."

     
     
    people

    Jade Thirlwall

    Having made her name as one quarter of Little Mix, Jade Thirlwall is one of Britain's most successful manufactured pop stars. She was picked out to join the girl group during the eighth series of "The X Factor", in 2011. But although they proved hugely popular, selling 75 million records, Thirlwall reckons she should never have been allowed to take part in the show that changed her life. She was 18 when she auditioned, and had only been discharged from hospital, where she was being treated for anorexia, a few months earlier. "If the show had done a proper mental health assessment, then they wouldn't have let me on," she told Joe Stone in The Guardian. Wasn't there a psych test? "It was very surface," she says. "Judging by some of the people in that 'X Factor' house, it wasn't done properly. Bless them, through no fault of their own, some of those people were mentally unwell."

    All the female contestants slept in the same room. "One of them would get up, put all her wigs out and start doing a Britney Spears performance at three in the morning," she recalls. "We'd have a meeting with lawyers and someone who was obviously not in the best headspace would be picking their feet and eating it in front of everyone. It was like, 'Is this the music industry?'"

     
     

    Image credits, from top: SOPA Images Limited / Alamy Live News; Giacomo Augugliaro / Getty Images; Justin Tallis / AFP / Getty Images; Harry Durrant / Getty Images
     

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