Is there a dog in the house?

By Andrew Tuck

Source: The Monocle Guide to Cosy Homes

"...And whatever you do, never let the dog sleep on your bed." There is lots of very good advice about how to treat a dog in the home and I have ignored just about all of it. And it's been great. I currently share a house with the other half and a wire-haired fox terrier called Macy. She's two years old, usually looks ridiculously scruffy for a breed that is supposed to be groomed to short-haired perfection, has numerous quirky habits, barks when a bark is least required – and always sleeps on the bed.

When you turn the lights out her chosen slumber spot is right at the end of the bed; I think she has delusions of being a guard dog (she'd be rubbish). But during the night she slowly edges up the duvet until you awake to find a fluffy face resting next to you, one eye open. This is the point where non-dog owners grimace and fret about hygiene and dog breath, while fellow owners (well, the non rule-abiding ones) sigh.

"Dogs make a house a home; make it cozy. They add vitality. They add humour, kindness, comedy and mischief. And they can be budding geniuses, too"

Face it: when you let a dog into your home, you need to prepare for some changes and one of them is that you are going to have to be a little less prissy. Because, yes, there will be domestic and design sacrifices to be made but the gains will make it all so worth it. The biggest downside is, without doubt, mud. If you harbour a passion for carpets that border on cream you are done for. No matter how much you towel your hound or insist on post-park showers, muddy paw prints will appear and multiply. That's why over the years (a weimaraner and border collie-cross came before Macy), carpets have been replaced with wooden floors. Mop-able surfaces are the future. And yes, with some breeds you will have to tackle hair assaults (try getting a weimaraner's needle-like ones out of your car seats).

But then comes the good stuff, the best of which is the naff truism that dogs make a house a home; make it cozy. They add vitality. They add humour, kindness, comedy and mischief. And they can be budding geniuses, too.

Here are some things that Macy can do that make me a proud parent: play dead when you pretend to shoot her (the training period for this was, I admit, a bit tricky: for weeks people walking past my house would hear me shouting, "you're dead! Die! Die!"); walk along the back of the sofa like a cat; rub her nose along a chair if she has an itchy snout; guess that you are knackered and hang out on the sofa with you all night; jump like a rabbit when happy; and pay chase around the dining table until you feel dizzy. Who could want more?

She also connects me with my neighbourhood. Alone I am invisible on the streets but when she's on the lead everyone wants to say hello and have a stroke (of her, not me). You get the gossip in your hood when you have a dog in tow. But let's get back to the house. Let's get back to a place made a home by an impish mutt. There is a game of chase to be played that will involve leaping over chairs, bouncing over beds and using cushions to block escape routes. This time she will not win. I will get that ball back.