Shaggy DOG STORY

Her new pooch was adorable – but he had one pet hate

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Going part-time at the age of 56 meant I could finally get myself a dog.

They're such great company.

I went to the rescue centre where a woman showed me around. Every dog was keen to say hello apart from one, a four-year-old mongrel called Sam.

'He's been here so long, he's given up,' the woman explained. 'People prefer younger, prettier dogs.'

He looked so lost, I felt sorry for him. 'Can I see him?'

She asked if I was sure. 'I don't want to get his hopes up.'

'I'm sure,' I said.

I went into his pen, crouched down and called his name. Sam ran over and tried to climb onto my lap. How I didn't fall over, I have no idea, but I didn't mind. I'd found the dog for me.

Sam settled in so easily, it was as though I'd always had him. Every time I came home, he gave me a wonderful welcome.

After a month, I took him to the vet for his booster. He was as good as gold in the waiting room, but that changed in the consulting room.

The vet's name was Tony. He was about the same age as me, with stunning pale blue eyes.

'Ah, a scruffy mongrel,' he said. 'I have one just like him at home.'