I was listening to the radio on my way to work yesterday. I heard part of a programme on Radio 4 called Midweek, which I rarely hear because it starts at 9am and I would normally be finishing my journey around then. Yesterday, though, the traffic was dire and I was still in the car.

I’m glad I was. I heard an item on the programme that told me loud and clear there is still hope for a ‘corporate whore’ like me. I heard a woman (who I must confess I’ve never heard of before) called Wendy Henry, recounting how she ‘opted out’ of the biggest rat race going (she was a Fleet Street journalist) whose career included being the first ever female Editor of a UK national paper, the News of the World. OK – many would call it a rag…..many in my circle call it the ‘News of the Screws’ because it is full of stories of the worst excesses of celebrities and Joe Public alike.

She was responsible for one of the most notorious headlines in its history ‘Gotcha’ which was run when the General Belgrano was sunk in the Falklands war, with terrible loss of human life. She must have been an incredibly ambitious woman in those days and my guess is extremely ruthless.

I enjoyed listening to that part of her story because she was clearly a major talent because you don’t get to be an Editor of a Sunday paper in Fleet Street as a woman – you just don’t. Later her best friend also achieved the same accolade as the editor of the Sunday Mirror.

What really caught my imagination was her recent life. She is now a ‘dog socialiser’ in that most wonderful of places, Battersea Dogs Home. Now I have a strong affinity with that place because our ‘babies’, Rosie and Archie are both ‘Battersea Babes’.

Rosie was only there for a few hours of her early life. I got her at ten weeks old, after she’d been taken to Battersea by a man who’d bought her and taken her to live in a high-rise block of flats with his four kids. Bless her, she lasted all of two weeks before he’d had enough and taken her to Battersea. She’d only been there hours when I tucked her under my arm and ran, for all I was worth to my car in case they decided they’d made a mistake and took her away from me. His loss was most definitely my gain. I love that little girl now with all my heart.

Archie’s tale is much more traumatic. He was a stray that was found walking the streets of London. He spent four and a half deeply distressing months at Battersea. He was so spooked by being in kennels he didn’t show his best side and no-one was prepared to take on an adult Border Collie of indeterminate age and with a mad look in his eye. Eventually the re-homers hit on the idea of taking him into an interview room so he was less spooked and could interact with people. I walked past him while he was being fussed by another prospective dog owner and my heart leapt – he was exactly ‘my kind of guy’. An hour or so later, I took him home with me and had a traumatic start to our friendship but love eventually blossomed and I learned to adore him as much as he adored me. Arch is today’s subject because Rosie has had over-exposure on DMs pages and I wanted him to know he’s loved every bit as much as our little glamourpuss.

Wendy Henry gave up her glittering career to look after the most traumatised dogs. She must earn a tiny fraction of a Fleet Street Editor’s wage yet she chose to abandon that career to do this thing.

She claimed her task is to look at a dog’s notes and see what she thinks the dog might need to build its confidence. That might be charging around an exercise room or a trip to the ‘treat room’ full of toys, food and other treats. She doesn’t know how long it will take so she just keeps on until the dog finds its way again.

She told a story that made me cry.

A Staffy had been found by the Police when they broke down the door of a flat to find the decomposing body of the dog’s owner, which the Police said had been there, dead for three months. During those three months the dog had lain beside its master/mistress and never made any attempt to eat the corpse, despite near starvation. For three months the little creature quietly and patiently waited. The Police brought out the dog and took it to Battersea.

Wendy looked at its notes and decided the treat room was what was needed and every day for a further three months, Wendy took the dog to the treat room and sat for an hour while the dog lay on the floor, not touching anything. After three months of patient watching and waiting, she was rewarded. The dog went into the room as normal but on this day, picked up a toy, walked over to her, dropped the toy in her lap and wagged its tail.

The dog has a new, happy life with a young couple and they all adore one another.

This is a woman who has walked away from a glittering, ‘high-power’ lifestyle and walked into the role of friend to these poor, bewildered creatures who, in the main, know little kindness or love. She is to be admired. She is to be applauded.

It took me a long time to rebuild Archie’s confidence. It also took me a long time to love him. He wasn’t Toby. He wasn’t full of joy and happiness. He was a loner who needed to be coaxed to show love. Eventually we got there and now my relationship with him is one of the most rewarding in my life today.