A perplexing day. I knew something was wrong when the Gawain and the Rory, our adolescent house-humans, came downstairs at seven o’clock in the morning. Generally speaking, if it isn’t a school or a catching bus day (the Gawain’s job seems to be running after buses, though he can’t be much good at it, as when he sets off to get one, he usually doesn’t come back home for several weeks) I can be pretty sure of a quiet spot curled up on their feet until well after midday. So I was on my guard as soon as they came down, especially as they weren’t making any groaning noises.

Then they, with the Aidan, each found themselves a giant red sock (I warned you this was going to be bizarre) and began taking things out of the socks; thrilling things wrapped up in crunchy paper, an awful lot of them smelling of chocolate. It was all most exciting, what with the boys making their little yapping noises, and the smells, and the rustling paper. And what was more, the Mum brought through another of the big socks and gave me a new teddy bear out of it. He’s a bit of a wimp, with a very nerdy hand-knitted jumper, but I’ll soon get rid of that, together with his ears and probably a paw or two.

Anyway, by now I was getting the hang of the thing; it was obviously a special kind of treasure hunt. So when the house-humans all went out I joined in the game by checking through the kitchen bin. Nothing doing, though I knocked it to the ground (quite an achievement, as it’s five times my height) and spread the contents all across the floor. I thought they’d be hurt if I didn’t look properly. They were a bit disappointed when they got back, though they didn’t say much, even the Mum only said “Bad” a couple of times before putting the rubbish back and spraying the bin with that evil-smelling anti-puppy stuff. Cheek, I call it; the vet says I’m six and a half.

Then, to add insult to … well, insult, they trooped into the dining room where they’ve recently installed a thing that looks (though doesn’t smell or feel) like a tree, and started getting more of these wrapped up objects from underneath it. Socks yes, trees yes, bins no. How’s a chap supposed to work that out? I did get some more stuff myself, though: a cotton bone (haven’t seen that Lab’s one since the kitchen floor debacle), some decent snacks and one of those puzzle balls that humans fill with snacks and test their dog’s intelligence by watching to see if he can undo it. My intelligence doesn’t need testing; I just gnawed straight through the thing. Result. Or it would have been, if the Mum hadn’t taken it off me at that point and put it in a high-up cupboard. Honestly, you show a bit of initiative…

All this wore me out so thoroughly that I fell asleep in front of Polar Express and was only woken by the Aidan nudging my face with his. The trouble was, I was immersed in a dream about my own early puppyhood and thought he was one of my insubordinate little brothers. As soon as I’d stretched out to snap a warning I realised, but by then it was too late. The Dad, who hardly ever tells me off, was very cross and made me sit outside in the rain to contemplate my wickedness. Quite right, of course; the cardinal rule of living with house-humans is not to let them see your teeth. But I do wish the Aidan had waited until I was awake before, er, waking me up.

So I’m a chastened dog now, watching the boys with my big brown eyes while they play with the odd television-and-stick combination they call their Wee. (This is not to be confused with the other thing they call Wee which they do in the bathroom, and don’t let me in.) I’m hoping that tomorrow will be slightly less eventful. I overheard something about boxes: maybe I can curl up in one and sleep it all off.