Max.

I'd like you to meet Max. He's my favourite dog in the whole world. I just adore him. When we first met, he was living in Florida (he's in Pennsylvania now). We became immediate best friends, united by our love of food and disdain for too much exercise.

Whenever I visited, Max would come and sleep on my bed. Every night followed the same pattern. I would retire and not long after I'd hear snuffling and scratching at the door. It was Max. He would push the door open and then wait politely, big, soft brown eyes gazing pleadingly at me til I called to him that it was OK to come in.

He would heave himself laboriously up onto a modest corner of the bed. As soon as he felt secure in his claim, he would have a little stretch. And push. And stretch again. Did you ever try to share a bed with a dog? They want it all! I would wake to find myself chilled, devoid of sheets and clinging by a fingernail to the edge of the mattress. Max, on the other hand, looked very comfortable.

'How can this be?' I used to wonder, 'He's not a big dog. How come he has all the bed and I have no space and no covers left?'

It got worse. As he relaxed, he would start to snore. You may be wondering how bad a dog's snores could be; try to imagine a steam train coming though the house. Even the woodwork rattled. From that point, sleep (my sleep, that is- Max would blissfully slumber on) was impossible.

But the final straw would come when, deeply asleep, he would cut one. You know, break wind. I don't know what he used to eat that could smell so bad, but let me tell you- that dog could fart for Florida.

I always worried that he wouldn't love me after I kicked him out every night. But you know what dog's are like, they don't hold grudges. And just in case he did (Max is very intelligent), I'd show him how much I loved him the best way I could. I'd feed him some of my breakfast. Like I said at the beginning, united by our love of food....