My Week As The Dog Whisperer


I’m not a dog person, which is a statement that will surprise nobody who knows me. I view most dogs as killing machines – yes, even the cute ickle ones with professor-style beards. Even sausage dogs. I read Clare Balding’s dog-infested autobiography last year with something approaching wonder, her doggy commitment showing no bounds. But dogs and me don’t mix, making an unhappy cocktail with no amount of stray hair floating on the surface. Lately though, I’m reluctantly having to don my doggy wings as a slew of my friends add a mutt to their family albums… Continue reading » “My Week As The Dog Whisperer”