Puppy love

It's been a long time since I had a dog, although even then it wasn't really my dog. He was more a family pet which inherited when our grand-uncle died. The dogs name was Barry and he was a large doberman. Emphasis on the large. Even by doberman standards he was a big dog, easily towering over anything short of a great dane. Good natured, though, luckily for us. Well unless you happened to be a small mammal, in which case you'd do well to keep your distance.

Barry's long gone now but I still have fond memories of him. Our constant battles for the warm spot in front of the fire on those dark winter nights, and the way his nose would snuffle up over the side of the sofa when he felt he was being neglected. Happy times. We've been a dogless family since then. Until now.

My youngest sister has been hankering for a dog for a few years now and this week she finally realised her goal, introducing the family to little Ronnie, a 12 week old French Bulldog she's just taken into her care. Cue the melting on hearts all around. Even my elder sister, reknown dog hater due to her allergy to most pets, seemed taken by Ronnie's obvious charms. She really is an absolute cutie, all puppy curiousity and boundless energy combined with a gentle nature. Thankfully she doesn't seem too perturbed by large numbers of strangers around her, which is a necessary virtue for surviving my family's regular gatherings.

When attention turned to the world cup finale (football - bleh), I was left with a tired and exhausted Ronnie napping on my chest as I lay on the sofa. I swear I would have kidnapped her there and then would it not have broken my sisters heart had I done so. I'm still not sure I'm responsible enough to have a pet of my own, nor am I convinced that I have the necessary room, but I'm sorely, sorely tempted

I want a puppy!