Is it just ME?

Or are cockapoos the ultimate middle-class status symbol?

MY NEIGHBOURS boast solid middle-class credentials: weekends in the Dales, children clothed by Joules, artisan manchego from the farmer’s market, bi-folding doors on their extended Victorian house.

They drive a Volvo estate and, as of last month, a fluffy face stares out of the rear window when they pull off the drive.

Cedric the Cockapoo is the latest addition to the family: a non-shedding, non-smelling, cute-as-a-button puppy and trophy dog.

When I visit any local wellheeled town or city — Beverley and Harrogate among them — I meet countless cockapoos, their owners giving each other smug nods. Not for them the ragged rescue mongrel.

‘Cockapoos are just so adorable with the kids,’ my neighbours say. ‘Cedric just worships Henrietta.’ This canine status symbol costs anything up to £1,500, but it doesn’t stop there. With bragging rights come shopping opportunities — so cockapoo neckerchiefs, bandanas and onesies.

I’m from a solid workingclass Yorkshire family. When I was a child, we had scruffy mongrel dogs. Our pets were part of the roughand-tumble of family life, not status symbols.

So how did I also come to own a cockapoo? True, when people ask what breed he is, I just say he’s a poodle/spaniel cross.

I chose Fred not because of how he looks but because I wanted a dog who would go on wild swims in tarns and lakes with me; a plucky friend who could hike long distances; and a non-shedding breed because my 81year-old mum is allergic to dog hair.

The vet recommended a cockapoo so I went with that. Pure practicality. Honestly.

It’s a nonshedding, nonsmelling, cute-asa-button puppy — a trophy dog