Let’s do this together

You know the saying “the tail is wagging the dog”? Well it certainly applies to my dog, Sir Digby. He absolutely rules this house – and the house next door where my mum and dad live.

All my neighbours know him. We live on a farm, so our road is a quiet country lane, which is a very good job as Digby thinks he owns it.

He trots up and down the lane all day to his heart’s content, and woe betide anybody driving who thinks he will move out of the way because it just won’t happen. Even in the face of oncoming traffic he will just sit in the middle of the lane until he decides it is time to move.

The neighbours have started calling him “King of the Hill”.

He sleeps at my house and then during the day while I am working he trots next door to my mum’s where he gets fed and walked. Then he does his patrol of the lane, before trotting back to our house to bag the best seat on the sofa in time for Paul

O’grady’s For the Love of Dogs (his favourite TV show, of course).

But there is a slight problem in Digby’s two-home situation... his diet. My mum, being the typical Irish mammy, is a feeder. She can’t resist throwing in a bit of leftover chicken into his bowl, and has been known to chop off a bit of my dad’s steak for Digby before she plates it up.

Then he begs for treats off the kids when he comes back home at night.

So he got a rude awakening when he went to the vet this week for his injections and he had gained a kilo.

Digby is most certainly not summer body ready. Much to his dismay he has been put on a strict diet – well at my house, at least. I am sure my mum will still be sneaking him chunks of cheese and slices of chicken behind my back.