I am the God Emperor of this place

21st June 2008

After my recent column in this newspaper, I was flattered to receive several letters from WMN readers. I had mentioned that at Port Eliot, the stately home where I hold sway, there is only one picture of a dog. Well, someone has offered to paint my portrait. For the record, my left profile is the better one. My right ear is inclined to stand up at from time to time at an embarrassing angle, making me look not unlike a one-eared Pharaoh dog.

I also had two proposals from female whippets offering themselves to me. One enclosed a glamour photo of herself on a fur rug, lounging in her basket, in what I suppose she thought was an alluring pose. It didn't do it for me, though; frankly she looked so thin I reckon that she must have an eating disorder.

A third letter came in the formof a piece of hate mail. It went on and on about dogs like me spend all day barking, frightening children and fouling pavements and if the writer could have his way, us dogs would all be trucked off for experiments in vivisection for the rest of our short but painful lives. I have forwarded copies of this menacing missive to both the RSPCA and the police who are going to take appropriate action. I suggested to them that the neutering of this miscreant should be a fitting penalty. The Chief Steward of my estate – Lord St Germans – thought this was a bit too strong, so I reminded him that he and his sort do it to us all the time.

A couple of weekends ago Lady StGhosted her first wedding event in the grounds on my domain. Now, I had my reservations about this undertaking. Firstly being a dog I simply don't believe in monogamy – loyalty is our forte. Secondly, and more pertinently, the site of the wedding tent is the last spot in the garden from which the visitors have not yet driven away the rabbits. Being pragmatic about these things, I turned this event to my advantage by making frequent raids backstage at the kitchens. Afterwards, when the meal was served, I went from table to table hamming it up, making myself look irresistible, thereby successfully hustling for further delicious scraps.

Later that evening, amongst the tents in which the wedding guests were camping, I heard a peculiar noise coming from one of them. I cautiously stuck my head through the flap and was astonished to see what I took to be a couple on the floor apparently fighting. I thought people were meant to be happy at these events. Odd in'it? The house opening has come to an end for the year now, about which I have mixed feelings. I will miss all the dogs that have been coming here, and tea-time in the house stewards' room where there is always a cake or two on the table. The door to that room does not close properly. Twice this season I have managed to get in there unnoticed and eat everything – absolutely everything, including scones, biscuits, cakes and some of the house stewards' "personal sandwiches".

On the positive side, there won't be so many people walking about in the gardens enjoying themselves. Some of them are useful, as they throw sticks for me, but most of the time they frighten off the rabbits. Soon the wildlife will be back and I will get the chance of some decent rabbit chasing and maybe even catch one or two.

Next time I will tell you about a dog show I went to in Wiltshire where I wondered if other dogs think poodles are members of a weird religious cult, or is it only me?

Roo thought for the day: If your owner suggests that you wear a lead, suggest that he wear a tail.

PS I believe that Staff are negotiating a fee for my service to the WMN. Whatever they obtain I propose to donate to the Dogs Trust (formerly NCDL), so that amongst other matters, they can track down any kind of animal abuser and "take them out". If that sounds a bit strong, well, it's only what is done to us if we get out of hand, eh?

As dictated to Peregrine St Germans.