Heehee, I love my doggie. He’s this big brindle thing. His breed is mastiff/pyrenean mountain dog cross. If he sounds big, that’s because he is. We don’t see it because he’s been with us for six years.

I remember when we first got him. He’s very much a family dog and we all knew this from the very outset. When I first saw him, I’d come home from an arduous day at the bank. I say bank, but it was just the service centre. Still, we all called it the bank. Anyway, Chester, as is his name, was a tine wee puppy, about three months old, maybe older, I can’t quite remember, but he was just bumbling around. He looked a little lost and seemed to be unable to calm down from the excitement of new surroundings.

I went upstairs and dumped my stuff, coming downstairs and standing at the door, I took in the sigh of him. He looked at me and ran towards me. As is the usual with puppies, he jumped upon me, not knowing his own strength and knocked me flying. Even as a wee puppy, he was always powerful. He licked my face and tried to assert his authority over me.

Being part mastiff, he has to be taken in hand, so I let this go on for a while, giggling all the time, because who the hell can’t resist giggling when being beset by a cute wee puppy? But after a few minutes, I had to stop him, not only because he was tiring me out - as you know, puppies have seemingly limitless energy, but also because I had to let him know who was in charge from the very outset.

Yeah, that worked. No, not really. Six years down the line, he still dominates us, but somehow we don’t mind. It’s the cuteness that does it. Chester is a dog of many nicknames, most arising from a physical attribute or a more mental attribute. He is mental, after all.

We call him Chester Chops, well, you can guess why: It’s because of his big chops. Sure, they ain’t as big as other big-chopped dogs, but they certainly are formidable. He’s also know as Doggie Pie. I can’t remember why, actually, but arising from this is my nickname for him: Pierate. Yes, it has to be spelled that way because it’s a pun. He is the doggie of many names, many more that I can name here.

He’s so bloody cute, especially when he’s happy. I’ve never really understood why people say that dogs have no emotions, God that’s the furthest thing from the truth. If you’ve ever had a dog, you’ll know. They smile when they are happy, they frown when they’re sad, heck there are so many emotions that can be read from a dog’s face.

When Chester is happy, his smile is so huge, it looks as if it might split his face, for lack of a better metaphor. He has this really cute sleepy face and when he’s angry, to be honest, to anyone else, it would be scary, but to me and my family, it’s just a laugh. Because we know him so well, we can tell what he’s trying to convey with a facial expression.

Every Friday, I buy cakes and, of course, a treat for the dog. He knows exactly when it’s treat time and when it is, he get up and practically begs for it. He sits and waits patiently until I make tea and serve the cakes for the humans. Actually, I give him his treat first because I like to see him prance out of the kitchen with it in his mouth. He looks so happy. Once I’ve done that, I serve the cakes to the rest of the family and then put out water for Chester. He’s always thirsty after a treat.

His chops are so big that when he drinks he has to sort of drape them across the bowl so that he doesn’t get slobbers in it. Of course, this creates problems. Not for him because, well, he seems to have a built in non-slip ability when it comes to stepping in his slobbers. Not us. We slip.

I remember one time, ages ago, I was playing with him and he backed up with a toy in his mouth. He then threw the damned thing at me - how in blazes he could do that baffled me, but he did. I tried to kick the treat and stepped in a slobber. Whee! I fell flat on my arse and hit my head too. I must have been about three feet up in the air before hitting the ground. You know what the family did? The looked around and grunted, then got back to their own things. Nice to have sympathy for falling in your arse, isn’t it?

Ah, my dog. He’s the cutest and I love him for that. Even when he’s being naughty, he’s cute. He’s cuddly, he’s naughty, he’s a right stupid wee thing, but that’s what makes me love him more. All hail King Chester!