I know how to live a dog's life

Before we got a dog, I was living like one. This is no reflection on my family's circumstances, or the way I was treated. I just decided one day – aged about four – that I was going to be a dog.

My long-suffering mother made me a kennel out of an oversized cardboard box. She patted me fondly and patiently sat out the days until I chose to reclaim my human form.

It's hard to imagine what influenced me to take to the floor because it was years before we got a dog. Maybe I can lay it at the feet of Lady and the Tramp, 101 Dalmations, Rin Tin Tin or even Toto. Pause for thought. (As the man-son says, it's my blog and I'll pun if I want to.) It could have been Lassie, who got off so very lightly in the naming stakes in the eponymous 1950s program compared to Lt Rip Masters and Sgt Biff O'Hara.

Was it the instinct of a  precocious dog lover, or of an egalitarian? In fact, I was drawn by the thought of looking at everything from ankle height. I still over-identify, but now I can do it in a standing position. Those who know me well recognise Yusuf Islam's (formerly Cat Stevens') 'I love my dog as much as I love you' as my theme song.

Taffy was our first. The offspring of our cousins' Sonny, predictably, he was a Welsh Corgi, who less predictably battled the magpies over ownership of his bum fluff. Magpies know no boundaries when nesting. Then there was Sam the Afghan Hound. I don't know what we were doing with a 1960s fashion statement but I do remember his impossibly fine blond hair blowing in the wind when he rode in my mother's convertible.

My son and I were given Max, who was brought up by my German friend Barbara. He arrived with his best friend, a black cat called Panther and a dowry of a wooden armchair. The son quickly put Max's new-found disobedience down to my abysmal German accent. He said the poor dog couldn't understand a word I was saying. I suspect Max knew a soft touch when he saw one.

You gotta love 'em. It's more than the unconditional love and deep-seated loyalty; it's their indescribable joy of just waking each morning and embracing each day with as much enthusiasm as they can possibly muster.

Now, as Cooper the kind and gentle kelpie x heaves his arthritic spine up off the floor, I'm determined this is the last one. I know I've said it before – and I'll probably say it again.