At one time we owned five dogs.  These included an adorable black mutt which we rescued from the beach near my wife’s house which is located miles from anywhere.  She was smitten by ticks and ill-fed.  We brought her back from the coast but she did not much care for the thunder and lightning which typifies the Highveld.  Other than Heksie, as she was called, we had adopted two Yorkies of about four years old, one of which was completely manic and so was identified by our vet as clearly my pet.

Now, about seven years later, we are reduced to one dog, being my Yorkie.  She is now absolutely ‘Queen Bee’ and is allowed to do pretty much what she likes.  One thing she particularly adores is to roll over on her back so that her tummy can be tickled.  That’s fine but what is less fine is the fact that she has taken over my pillow space where I should be locating my head and neck to sleep as comfortably as possible.  Yes, there is a basket (well actually a cushion with blankets) which lies next to the bed.  Yes, Jessie will occasionally condescend to spend a few minutes sleeping on that cushion.  However, it will not be long before a bark is heard at no matter what unearthly time of the night when she is demanding to be picked up, put on the bed and left to her own devices to choose the exact spot where she is going to disturb me as much as possible.

What better example can there be than ‘spare the basket, spoil the dog’?  And the consequence is that my biokineticist is threatening to refuse to attend to my distressed back, shoulders and neck.  I have tried speaking to Jessie about this but she tends only to want to communicate with me when she is offered some of my bran and raisin muffin.