When I was about three years old, my mother was one day alarmed to see that our dog was foaming at the mouth. A prompt investigation revealed several pertinent facts:
* It wasn’t rabies
* I had been cleaning the dog’s teeth, which accounted for the foam
* The dog did have a toothbrush – it was ‘this one’
* ‘This one’ was also my Mum’s toothbrush
* I had been doing this regularly
I’d like to convey the fear and hysteria which surrounded that incident and the scars it left of my half-formed psyche – it would explain a lot of personality defects for which I don’t care to take responsibility.