Mum, Mum, I’m tired. My Dad made me run up and down the field chasing a tennis ball. To be honest, all I wanted to do was to lie in the grass and chew a ball but Dad wouldn’t let me get away with that. I’ve been up and down then back and forth then here and there. Little ’un hasn’t been far away from me at any point and she’s even managed to snatch the ball from me from time to time.

Let me tell you a secret…

You think I’m slow and lumbering compared to her, which I am really. What I lose in speed, I make up for in cunning. I don’t just flail around charging with no thought for where the ball might go. Oh no. That game isn’t for me. I bide my time and watch the arc of the ball in the air and I follow it. I know, I know, it looks as though I’m just a lummox but it’s that I’m wily, honest.

I know that you think you’re being clever with the one ball game because I’m not allowed to rest. Perhaps that’s so but at the end of the day I do quite enjoy it if I’m honest. I’m smiling, see.