A Life Full of Dogs, Memories, and Mayhem 

I am a dog lover — there is absolutely no doubt about it. 

I was brought up around dogs. In our home, there was never a long gap between one passing over the rainbow bridge and welcoming another into the family. Some people might call that “replacing” them. I do not. Not at all. 

Dogs are never replaceable. They are with us for such a brief time, yet they fill our lives in the biggest way. They are part of your family. Your children grow up with them. They are there in your everyday routines, your milestones, your memories. When one leaves, they take a piece of your heart — and somehow, opening your home to another dog is not replacing them… it is continuing that love. 

There was only one period in my life where I did not have a dog. That was when I first moved out of home into a maisonette where pets were not allowed — well, dogs were not allowed anyway. So, naturally… I got a cat. 

A house cat. 

A cat who, in all honesty, thought it was a dog. And I must take full responsibility for that. 

Eventually, I moved into a house, and my little animal family finally felt complete when I got my very own dog again. Except by that point, things had taken an interesting turn. 

The cat had firmly established itself as the pack leader. 

The dog, on the other hand… well, he seemed to think he was a cat. 

The cat would charge down the street chasing dogs twice its size without a second thought, while the dog happily lounged along the back of the sofa like it was the most natural place in the world. To anyone passing by, I imagine it looked completely backwards — but to us, it was just normal life. 

And then there were the dogs themselves — each one bringing their own version of chaos. 

My first dog, Max I… well, he was basically Houdini. That dog could escape from anywhere. Gates, gardens, you name it — he found a way out. My other half spent most of the early days of our relationship not wining and dining me but chasing Max I around the estate. 

Max had his favourite spots too. He would either turn up outside my sister’s door or at my grandma’s bungalow, like he was doing his own little social rounds. 

“Ah, sweet,” you might think. 

Not so sweet when we took in a guard dog from my other half’s dad’s pub… and Max decided to train him in the art of escaping too. Suddenly it was not just one dog doing the rounds — it was two. 

Then there was Max III, my other half’s rescued German Shepherd. We decided one lovely Sunday afternoon to play hide and seek with the kids. Sounds wholesome, doesn’t it? 

What actually happened was that Max decided he wanted to be with his dad — and nothing was going to stop him. Including me. 

He dragged me straight through a graveyard. Jeans ripped, knees scraped, dignity gone. That dog was unbelievably strong, and clearly not interested in the rules of the game. 

And then… there was my baby. 

Big D, the Doberman. 

He was my princess, my shadow — but also a nag, a thief, and an absolute bully when he wanted to be. I have genuinely chased him around the streets in my onesie, kids in tow (no judgment, please). 

He did also, on one memorable occasion, shove me towards the road in front of a bus because he did not like the noise of the rain and traffic one early morning on a walk. Thanks for that, Big D. 

But here is the thing… 

Every single one of these moments — the escapes, the chaos, the injuries, the madness — they are the stories I treasure the most. 

Because for every muddy paw print, there is a wagging tail. 

For every chewed-up shoe, (and with Big D, there were quite a few!) there’s unconditional love. 

For every “accident” … there is a memory that becomes part of your story. 

I have been lucky enough to have had a few dogs in my life, and each one has left their mark — not just on my home, but on my heart. 

All these memories, and many more, are the reason I am — and always will be — a dog lover. 

Because when it comes down to it… 

You can rely on a dog.