“In your food, Wilbur. Your face is always in your food.”

Hey, give me a break, I think. I’m a dawg.

She talks about me all the time. On the phone. To the big man, Billy.

“That dog,” she says. “He costs me a fortune. I spend more money on his food, than for the rest of this family.”

I eat too much, I’m a pig. I don’t eat enough, I’m ill. I push food around in my bowl. Apparently, I’m fussy.

“It’s like having another kid in the house,” she says. “I’m always worrying.”

Well, don’t worry, I think to myself. You need to enjoy life more, you know. Like dawgs do.

It’s that time of year when all the talk in the house is about Halloween.

“It’s coming soon,” say the kids. “MUM, will you make me a costume?”

They’re as excited as puppies and mum…