Will Young: ‘Famous people always go on about their bloody dogs’

Photography by Dan Burn-Forti

“Did you find me all right?” he says. “Did you get the bus? The bus is brilliant. Buses in the countryside are like rollercoasters – they drive insane. Gimme two secs and I’ll just have this done…”

I hear barking from inside. That’ll be Domino, Young’s rescue dog, whom I’m here to meet as much as his owner. Young has long been interested in dogs and their welfare. Many canines have come and gone from his life. He’s been patron of the Thai dog rescue centre Soi Dog for the past 10 years – “hence the cap,” he says, pointing at a logo.

He now has his own dog-food brand, Miraculous Meals, which has thus far raised £50,000 to help tackle a “never ending” UK dog-rescue crisis that involves 50,000 to 80,000 dogs being euthanised every year.

So followed the invite to meet one man and his dog.

Domino was adopted in 2020 from a kill shelter – Young hates the terminology, as do I – in Los Angeles. Young was on sabbatical in the city during the pandemic.

“He had an hour left to live, which obviously melted my heart,” he says, pointing at him. “If he curls his lip, it means he’s smiling.” I’m shown through the house and take a seat at a big, wooden, slightly messy kitchen table. Young fetches me a cup of tea, but declines himself. “It’s not quite tea time,” he says. “I just had lunch.”

Young fusses over Domino – who sits with his head in my lap, as he is apt to do – as much as he fusses over me. (Esme, the 15-year-old border terrier, is also at home, but sadly unavailable for interview.) I ask about Domino’s heritage. He is most likely to be eight years old, Young says – a mastiff-bulldog cross. But because he is a rescue this is a best guess. He’s healthy apart from mild osteoarthritis, and has huge “Princess Diana eyes”.

Young has been in the public eye for nearly a quarter of a century. He looks well at 46, still baby-faced, but with a few grey hairs poking out from under his cap and in his whiskers.

He won the first Pop Idol in 2002, after famously standing up to Simon Cowell. He’s since had nine top-five albums and four number ones, four greatest hits, two Brit Awards. He’s sung in honour of Nelson Mandela, Princess Diana and Elton John. He’s played Glastonbury four times, presented CBeebies Bedtime Stories, and was Lionfish on The Masked Singer. It’s been quite a career.

Still, we chat mostly dogs. In 2021, he handcuffed himself to a US-based animal testing centre in Cambridgeshire. “It’s called MBR Acres. It’s been there since the 70s. They breed up to 3,000 beagles a year,” he says. “They overbreed the bitches, chuck away the runts, do something called the LD50 test that’s been going since Victorian times…” LD50 is a toxicity test – a lethal dose of material, given all at once, that causes the death of 50% of a group of test animals. “They use beagles because they’re the most forgiving breed,” he goes on. “So I drove up there and handcuffed myself to the gates.”

What happened?

“First they sent drones. Then they called the police. I told the police I’d lost the key, because I had to wait for the photographer. Then I magically found the key.”

Where does one buy handcuffs from these days?

“Amazon,” he says.

I ask if the police knew who he was.

“I didn’t even think about that. I thought: I’m just a person who’s handcuffed himself to the gates. It led to the most bizarre meeting I’ve ever had in my life, with the RSPCA. Famous people always go on about their bloody dogs. I thought, ‘Well, why not do something about it?’”

I mention the other celebrity rescue dog of the moment, Buttons Gallagher, who Liam – a supposed hard man of rock – adopted from Thailand’s Happy Doggo sanctuary in 2023 and is forever making kissy faces at on social media.

“That just shows he’s got a very kind heart,” Young says. “The thing about a rescue dog is that you can’t escape the context of their rescue. I still look at Domino and think: he was literally about to be put down…”

He goes on, “People overlook rescue dogs because they think they’re troublesome. If he was on a website, he’d be very difficult to home for 95% of people.”

It’s a bit like the pitfalls of internet dating, I suggest, and talk turns to apps.

“I got banned from Tinder,” he says, “because they thought I was catfishing.” Tinder assumed someone else was using an image of Will Young as their profile picture.

Isn’t there a celebrity version of Tinder for pop stars anyway? I ask.

“I wasn’t interested in elitist dating,” he says. “I’m very happy in a relationship now and have been for a while. For a long time I tried to tell myself, probably subconsciously, that I didn’t want another relationship. I was so worried I wouldn’t find the right person. But there’s a huge power in making the decision to be with someone.” His partner is a civilian. “We met in real life – old school – but it was a setup. I still think you have to make the choice.”

Talk returns to the handcuffs. “It was hysterical,” he says, of his protest. “But coming back to the point: rescue centres are amazing at putting dogs with the right people. The joy you get from a rescue dog is… I don’t know if it’s the second chance, or people resonating with the hard times. It’s just instinctive: you want to be kind to others that have been slightly shat on.”

Young moved to the country four years ago, close to where he grew up. (His twin brother, Rupert, died in 2020, and I wonder if the move was related.)

Does he get stopped for selfies on dog walks now?

“I do remember getting screamed at by this posh guy with two spaniels,” he says. This was in London. “People were very snobby about dogs. We’re both much happier here.”

He points to Domino, who by now is asleep, his head still in my lap.

“He’s still very naughty. I came back yesterday and he had ripped apart an Amazon parcel…”

More handcuffs?

“A book on childhood abandonment, for my book club” – part of the return of his Wellbeing Lab podcast.

There’s a knock on the back door. A workman has a question. Young is having his garden landscaped, which gives us the perfect excuse to have a quick nose at his other great passion: compost.

“Well, compost is exciting,” he laughs, as we zigzag down a path. “I like to make my own compost personally.”

Young waves at his plans to stake up this year’s tomatoes. “You’re supposed to use different compost for different things, but I’m a cowboy gardener. I’m not an expert.”

He should do a Clarkson’s Farm-style show, I suggest. Will’s Garden. There is family precedent: his mum is a plant-nursery gardener. “She gives me gardening tips from France on FaceTime,” Young says. His older sister, Emma, is a gardener, and some of his first memories are of helping his dad grow vegetables. He could get the whole family on board.

“People do come up to me far more about the dogs or the gardens than the acting or the singing,” he says. “And, you know what? I love it.”

Could he be happy with his new career as gardener and dog influencer?

“I see my career as a bonus,” he says. “If I get an acting job, I’m like: oh, that’s fun. I did a gig last Sunday and thought: very good. But my identity is not tied. What I really like doing is pottering in the garden, being with my partner, doing very little.”

One last question: does Domino enjoy his music? I tell him I once played the Smiths to the residents of Battersea Dogs and Cats home, because Morrissey was holding a pop-up merch store there.

“I don’t think he gives a shit about my music in the slightest,” Young laughs, before we hug goodbye.

“He doesn’t give a shit as long as he’s getting fed.”

Miraculous Meals are available at miraculousmeals.co.uk

Image by SWNS