I'm now in the doghouse after agreeing was a big mistake

've got a major problem at the moment, which is that Mary - my eight-year-old animal-mad daughter - wants a dog.

- Steve Canavan

Her best friend at primary school got a brand-new golden retriever this week, which is a major blow because it came on top of some of her other good friends recently acquiring puppies too.

It meant that yesterday when I collected her from school, she traipsed out with a face like thunder and then, once in the car, began sobbing like a wife who's just discovered her husband has blown their entire life savings on rare Bob Dylan records (I use this rather niche example because it actually happened: a mate of mine secretly spent £7,000 buying early Dylan vinyls on the internet; he's now single, though on the upside has much more time on his hands to listen to music).

"Are you ok Mary, what's happened, has someone been nasty to you, what's up darling?" I asked, concerned she was being bullied or that something dreadful had happened.

She looked straight at me and, with tears in her eyes, wailed, 'you won't get me a dog. You've RUINED MY LIFE.'

"Well, that's a little dramatic Mary," I said softly, at which she began howling and beating her fists against the car seat like a particularly dramatic scene from a Greta Garbo movie.

Now any normal parent would've said, "get a grip, stop whining - you're not having a dog." But because I'm as soft as a sack full of cotton wool and can't bear to see my daughter upset, I leant over, hugged her and said "don't worry darling, we might be able to get a dog."