I had always assumed that following the birth of our third child, and my subsequent session with a man with a scalpel and some sterile scissors, that our family was ''complete''.
It turns out I was wrong. Apparently, there was still an almighty void that simply had to be filled. Apparently, what we really, really needed to make our house a home and to hermetically seal our little family unit was a puppy.
Off the leash … the writer and his family with Nell, the latest addition to their home.Credit: The Guardian
''It'll be the fourth child I never had,'' my wife, Ann, pleaded, as if the vasectomy had been my choice.
''But without the child benefit,'' I huffed.
I had done so well. For years I had resisted manfully as the various members of my family ganged up and tried to bully me into getting a dog. Last year, in November, I cracked. I still don't know why. Ann had found a breeder with puppies for sale, and within minutes of her discovery I found myself driving the 920-kilometre round trip to pick up a bundle of brown fluff that the rest of the family now call Nell and that I call whatever is appropriate given the proximity of the children.
The dog is a miniature chocolate labradoodle. The very name makes me cringe. When people ask me what kind of dog we have, I have to say it under my breath. I've tried to make it sound better. For a while I even tried mixing it up and calling it a poobrador but that just made it sound even more camp, if that were possible. Still, at least it's not a cockerpoo or a jackapoo, or the mutant beast my son Frank wants to create whereby he crosses a great dane with a poodle to make a … well, he's eight, so you can guess the rest.
It's another responsibility I always thought we didn't really need in our family life. That's why I was so resistant. Having the cats is fine. They do their own thing. Or at least they did until the dog turned up. Now they just live upstairs, frozen by fear, peeing on the carpets and making the house stink.
But a dog is different. For one, you can't just let it do its business in the neighbour's garden and pretend it didn't happen. For two, they're absurdly needy. They follow you around the house, sticking their wet noses into everything, demanding your attention. Ever tried cleaning the kitchen floor with a puppy attached to the mop? Yes, it may double the size of the mop head but it takes four times as long to finish.
Don't get me wrong, she's not a bad dog - at least I don't think so. After all, she growled when she saw Coldplay on TV the other day. But there doesn't seem to be any light at the end of this tunnel. We're doing everything we should. We reward good behaviour and ignore the bad bits. We walk/drag her regularly.
At my lowest point recently, Ann turned to me, all stony-faced, and said that if the dog really was ruining my life then I had her blessing to give it to the RSPCA, knowing full well that were I to go through with it, I would never see my children smile again. The fact that I would also be homeless also swung it in the dog's favour.
Yes, people - well, me - primarily said it would be bloody hard work having a puppy. And it is. In fact, it's much like having a newborn baby, only one that you can't put nappies on. Well, you could but there would be raised eyebrows in the puppy park. She requires constant supervision, endless feeding and the countless clean-up operations.
But if you're still thinking of getting a dog, please think long and hard about what's in store for you and your family, and do what we should have done - have a fourth child instead.
The Guardian