I have given up trying to stop the new D-O-G from sleeping on my bed. It has become a nightly battle of wills and cunning which, to be frank, I'm normally too tired to bother to fight.

The night starts well. I go upstairs, Jade (the D-O-G) races ahead of me and jumps onto the duvet, looking guilty but hopeful. I order her off and into her own bed. She obeys, giving me those hard-to-resist, sadly reproachful, bambi eyes. I get undressed, climb into bed (my bed, not hers) and turn off the light.

I start to fall asleep. After a few minutes, I hear a close-up snuffling, accompanied by a wave of dog-food-flavoured halitosis, as Jade checks my eyes are shut. There's a brief scuffling noise then a sudden thump and the whole bed shakes as four stone of labrador leaps over my body and curls up beside me.

The first few days I tried ordering her off and - when that failed- physically kicking her off. The result? Go back to the words "I start to fall asleep..." and re-read. So I gave up. I now share my bed with a huge, hairy black - and above all RESTLESS - hound. At 6am, no matter how late I went to bed, she shifts round until she's standing on my head and licks my eyes - yes, my eyes -  until I wake up enough to get up and let her out.

Oh, and yes - I have tried shutting her out of the bedroom. Experimentation has shown that it is easier to sleep with a heavy dog on your bed than with all-night-long scratching, howling, whining and barking outside the bedroom door.

I might have to admit defeat. I'll give my bed up entirely to Jade, and spend the night myself curled up in the dog's bed. At least I'd get a full night's sleep.

So I am starting a new year with a new D-O-G. Here she is:

Sadly, not long before Christmas, I had to take the awful decision to have my last D-O-G put to sleep. This is possibly the hardest decision I have ever had to make. The worst part is the guilt - does he understand why I am condemning him to death? Would he agree with the decision if he could communicate? Would he get better if I waited a bit longer?

Merlin was an exceptional dog; super-intelligent, extremely communicative, unfaultably obedient and devoted. He had a unique character, fun, witty (in a canine way), remarkably telepathic, and he loved life and loved me. I shall never forget him and, even though our house now has a new dog to fill the empty corners, I still miss Merlin every single day. He's buried at the end of our garden, with a Japanese Maple Tree over him.

 A good friend of mine sent me a poem by Rudyard Kipling  - it expresses beautifully the ache of not hearing those four feet trotting behind you ... here it is:

Four-Feet

I have done mostly what most men do,
And pushed it out of my mind;
But I can't forget, if I wanted to,
Four-Feet trotting behind.

Day after day, the whole day through --
Wherever my road inclined --
Four-feet said, "I am coming with you!"
And trotted along behind.

Now I must go by some other round, --
Which I shall never find --
Somewhere that does not carry the sound
Of Four-Feet trotting behind.


Goodbye Merlin, my friend.