It’s 1996, possibly 1997. I’m in Regent’s Park, London Town, with my best friend, Maxwell Wolf. That’s him in the picture. I’m reading poetry and Maxwell is indulging his favourite pastime, putting the squirrels back in the tree. He’s good at it. He runs after them, they wait till he gets just this close and then… from nowhere they find a tree and run up it. Maxwell jumps up the tree impressively high – he’s a fine figure of a hound – but doesn’t jump high enough. He looks around, pleased with himself, satisfied that the squirrel is back in the tree. He knows though that the squirrel is just one of many. And they all need to go back in the tree. I have a little fantasy that “Putting The Squirrel Back In The Tree” has become an Olympic sport with time trials, different difficulty levels. Well, if breakdancing… when Maxwell lets out a yelp. He’s chasing… he’s very close… Actually that is very close. I’m not sure the squirrel is going to make it. 

From nowhere, the squirrel finds the tree (they really are sneaky) and runs up it, Maxwell hot on his tail. Literally. Maxwell’s got the squirrel by the bum. He’s excited but this isn’t supposed to happen and he doesn’t really know what to do next. The squirrel does. He stops running, turns round and bites Maxwell on the nose. 

I promised Maxwell I wouldn’t say what happened next. We went home and never spoke of it again. 

More than any other dog we’ve had since Maxwell went to chase the Big Ball In The Sky, Polly has picked up the mantel. She looks like him, moves like him, has the same sense of responsibility… You should have seen Maxwell when we had our first child. Really, the best babysitter. I can’t begin to think what Maxwell Wolf would have made of St.Ann’s Well Gardens, a park so laden with squirrels you almost trip over them. 

By the time you read this, Polly and Harry   will have had their first anniversary with us. It feels like they’ve been here forever, but it’s barely been a year. Sometimes I wonder whether they can remember their past life when they were called Freckle and Domino, and lived at the extraordinary Healing Paws Rescue in Greece. 

And yes, here comes the serious bit. This is the Xmas issue and it’s that time of year when we say yes, get a dog, but remember – as the old phrase has it – a dog is for life, so give the idea some proper thought. And when you realise it’ll be the best thing you ever did, get a dog from a rescue centre. Somewhere like Raystede, which is a really good place. Or maybe from further afield, like Healing Paws. There are so many lovely dogs that need rescuing, need a home. So if you’re going to do it, do it right.