All dogs, really. I love dogs. I have no problem with cat-people, of whom, I understand, there are a few. But my dogs have always been family to me.

Tara is a thirteen year old Labrador, who came to the house with Aimée when she moved in almost without my noticing. Tara is an amazing dog. The best there is. She’s a sweetheart. She’s the main reason Aimée’s still here.


Doobie, my Jack Russell, is seven – emotionally challenging, adventurer, experimentation expert and occasional desperado. Has eaten everything that should have killed him. People always think Jack Russells are bomb-proof. Doob is going to prove it, one way or the other.


Poppy, a princess, diva, drama queen. Has a dinky tennis ball she loves more than any and everything. Has become quite cuddly over the last few months, since she turned three.


Pumpkin, her little sister, terrified of everything, barks at everything, weepy-and-doe-eyed little thing. A delight. A loud delight, who cuddles into my lap when I read, and barks when no-one’s at the door.


Yup, my dogs are wonderful.