THIS Friday is a very special day for all the hounds out there – it’s National Dog Day.

I imagine dogs across the nation will be having a lie in.

Then, when that last, twitching dream in which they eventually catch that pesky rabbit ends, they will be gently woken from their slumbers by a loving owner bearing a breakfast tray of sausages, bacon, those foul-smelling tripe treats, a smelly slipper and a plant pot they’re actually, just this once, allowed to attack.

Then there will be walks that go on forever, and no matter how muddy or wet they become, there will be no bath to ruin the fun.

Tummy tickles and ear stroking will follow, and the day will be rounded off with a whole roast chicken for dogsy to devour while the humans look on, hungrily plaintive in the hope of trickle down. No chance.

As a nation of dog lovers, we love to spoil our pets and their happiness is usually near the top of the household agenda – after all, how long can you get away with ignoring a dog who’s decided it’s time for a walk?

And so it is with sadness and horror that we read of ill-treated, unloved animals being abused.

Anyone who has ever known a dog will know the loyalty and love they give is out of this world. How could you ever be cruel to them?

And it is with sadness and horror that we read of attacks by dogs.

As dog lovers are fond of saying, there’s no such thing as a dangerous dog, only dangerous humans.

Sadly, it’s always the dog who’s put down.

It was particularly shocking to read at the weekend that a second little boy in a matter of days has been killed by a dog in the UK.

It is not for us to judge the details of either situation – there will be an inquiry and any necessary course of action will be taken.

But we all have to take responsibility for such attacks – they simply shouldn’t happen. Dogs should be properly trained, owners must be in control of them at all times and children and dogs should never be left alone together.

So for this National Dog Day, I’d like to request a very special present for all the dogs – and the kids – in this country: the dog licence.

You should only be allowed a dog if you have a suitable home environment for one. You should be forced to sign up to training classes. You should be tested on your understanding of the breed and dog psychology in general. The dog must be registered with a vet and must undergo a yearly examination to make sure it is being cared for properly.

It may all sound a bit nanny state, but frankly, if it cuts down on the cases of animal cruelty and human tragedy, it would be worth it. And all the responsible dog owners out there would pass with flying colours.

The only ones who would fail are those who shouldn’t be left in charge of a goldfish, let alone a hound.

Come and get the needle with us

I SEE the ever popular Great British Bake Off is back on our screens.

Not having much of a sweet tooth, it’s not my cup of tea (Great British Savoury Snacks would be more my thing) but you have to admire the talent of the people involved.

And I did become curiously addicted to the Great British Throw Down, in which potters of varying talents made creations of various quality. I particularly liked it every time the male expert kept bursting into tears when he saw a pot he liked.

But I think there’s one traditional craft that has been vastly overlooked – knitting.

Having knitted since I was three, I’m desperate to see a TV show in which contestants grapple with cable and lace and get tangled up in Fair Isle.

Although if my knitting club is anything to go by, it would mostly be a couple of rows of something or other, followed by a few sips of wine and a natter, two more rows, more wine and more nattering... and the needles sink to the table as the wine and nattering take over. So maybe not great telly after all.

However, if you’re into knitting, crochet or crafting of a similar ilk - and you like a natter – do join us.

We can be found at the Pig on the Hill most Wednesdays from 7.30pm, or check us out on Facebook – Crafting on the Hill.

Maybe see you there.

  • THERE’S a whole new sinister group of criminals striking where we would least expect them and I imagine they will be featured on Crimewatch very soon.

    Like me, you will be alarmed to learn that younger people are going round passing themselves off as pensioners just so they can get a bus pass.

    Oh yes. This cruel and senseless crime has left authorities around the land out of pocket and resulted in buses crammed to standing room only with middle-aged charlatans sporting blue rinses and shopping trolleys.

    At least this is the only explanation I can find for my 88-year-old mother’s local authority insisting that she turn up in person to renew her bus pass. No longer allowed to fill in the form and post it in, she now has to go into town from the village she lives in and walk a fair distance to Shire Hall if she wants a new pass.

    The only other explanation is that they want her to prove that she can get the bus and her personal appearance will mean she has demonstrated this.

    I’m foxed. You don’t have to turn up in person to renew your passport.

    Come on, you bureaucratic jobsworths, give an old lady a break.