Can I just say before I get started that I adore dogs. I like dogs more than I like most people. Dogs are reliable. Dogs are loyal. Dogs are beautiful. But, it has to be said, dogs are dicks.

Now before you start getting all judgemental hear me out. I am a woman who cannot live without a dog in her life. Sharing my life with a dog fills my heart with joy. I love the training, I love the walking, I even love the endless games of fetch. But still, I do think that a lot of the time, my dog is being a dick.

Let me give you an example.

This morning Bertie and I broke with our  routine and went for a walk at 6.30 am to avoid the worst of the heat of the day. We had a lovely walk, chatted hello to other dog followers – all being pulled at breakneck speed across the field. We had a good run, sniffed at all the wee-mail and then came back home for breakfast.

Now I admit maybe I should have popped him in his crate but in my mind, I’d make some breakfast and the dog and I could sit, companionably in the garden, sharing toast crumbs and sipping tea.

Yeah right.

At first, all is well. I make the tea and leaving it to brew, pop some clothes in the washer. Bertie decides to jump head-first into the washing machine and refuses to come out, nipping at my hands as I lure him out with treats. Ok, that bit was kinda cute. Not so cute was then peeing on the pile of clothes sat on the floor waiting to be washed.

Bertie!

So, washer on an extra rinse cycle, I get back to my breakfast, – A bit of toast and marmalade, sat under the new pergola, I feel right posh. We have long since abandoned putting cups or glasses or phones or books on the side tables in the living room – everything is now placed high up on the dining table. Which is where I safely put my tea and toast while I looked for my phone and book.

Remembering the book is on my bedside table I nip upstairs to get it, gone but a moment. I come down to the dog standing on the dining room table wolfing down my marmalade toast and slurping at my Earl Grey tea.

Bertie!!

He looks me straight in the eye and carries on drinking. In the struggle to gulp down the last of the toast before I reach him, Bertie knocks the tea over and a vase of roses from the garden. Luckily there is loads of important paperwork on the table to soak up the mess.

Bertie!!!

While I am trying to remember that we don’t shout at dogs, I realise the tea is running off the table into my shoe, the same shoe I swear I left in the hall but has somehow mysteriously appeared beneath the table. While I’m mopping up the mess, Bertie attempts to get back on the table so he can steal the kitchen roll, or maybe on the off-chance I have left a bacon buttie up there for a little snack. 

My pathetic efforts to get him into his crate are ignored as he now does zoomies from sofa to chair sofa to at lightning speed.

Bertie!!!!

It is 7.45 am.  My house is trashed. The dog peed on the laundry, ate my breakfast, filled my shoe with tea, and zoomies, seeming to unsettle his hastily grabbed breakfast, he is then sick at my feet.

I told you dogs were dicks.

He’s asleep now, angelic looking and sweet. I am starving; some dick ate my breakfast, but if I don’t get this written while he sleeps, it will never get done.

He’ll be awake in half an hour and then we will start all this once again. I wonder what he wants on his sandwich for lunch?

I love Bertie so much but seriously, dogs are dicks. I think we should all say this loud and proud.

And he’s awake.

Off we go aga…

Oh Bertie!!!!!