Tiny Flirt has inherited more than his looks from us. He has his mother’s high principles and my bloody-mindedness. And he wanted to walk the dog this evening.

By the time we reached the park, several of our neighbours were standing at their front doors, wanting to know what evil cruelty I was inflicting upon this poor, innocent child to make him scream so. Oh, how they laughed when they heard his cries of “Let go!” and saw his attempts to wrestle Holly’s lead from my hand. “My turn! I want Holly!”

Once safely off the road and onto the grass, I made Holly sit and gave Tiny Flirt the lead.

The battle of wills between my furious, thirty-six inch tall son and the exuberant five month old puppy was short. She ran for it – but Tiny Flirt would not let go of the lead. Nor would he let me hold on to him for safety. So Tiny Flirt was dragged on his tummy across the park, shouting “Sit! Naughty Holly!”

And the minute Tiny Flirt was picked up and dusted off, Holly was duly told off and marched back to the house – where she was made to sit on the Naughty Step.

That’ll teach her.