Anyone who’s been around my PAD for any length of time will recognise Rosie, otherwise known at various times as “the Roguester”, “Rosie-Posie”, “my baby girl”, “aw gerroff”, “cutie-pie”, “my little petal” or “you mad bitch”.

(Yeah, yeah, I know all of this is too cutesy for words and I am now out as a total pushover……I also recognise that these names are all so obvious as to be boring.)

Anyway, there she was, in the sunshine, trotting out of the undergrowth purposefully. So, I picked up my camera and went “snap”. She is totally gorgeous, utterly maddening and a nasty piece of work all in one little furry bundle.

Not only that but she smells like the inside of a tart’s boudoir because she went to the groomers on Friday and was washed with pongy stuff.

When my folks were here, they were reminded of how downright nasty she can be when we were watching the footie on Thursday night. Rosie gets completely wrapped up in football. She loves it. When Spurs score, she throws herself at Archie, snarling and spitting and the poor chap has to defend himself or get completely trounced. There ensues a “handbagging”.

We usually spend the entire game taking it in turns to hang onto her collar so she can’t ambush the poor old fella while he snoozes on his day bed beside the sofa.

So, she may look as though butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth but she can behave like a little devil when the mood takes her. Don’t let the looks fool you, she is probably plotting some misdemeanour as she comes towards me.

This time last year, I actually achieved something - now that's been something of a rarity in my life of late.