I have discovered , to my horror, that the price to pay for having an adolescent dog in the house is mess. As fast as I pick up all Wendell’s toys, he is behind me, getting them out. There are bones, in varying degrees of decomposition being laid at my feet, chew toys being shred and spread and kitchen roll thrown around with complete disregard for artistic appeal. I vacuum clean the carpet in my sitting room twice a day, now and it still looks a fright. Table legs get chewed, cushions are targeted and Wendell even managed to bite the loop off Terry’s belt in a sneaky, cuddle up manoeuvre. I try to look on my new cleaning agenda as a labour of love. Mind you, this is all a small price to pay for having the pleasure of owning such a wonderful little chap.