Well, I’ve introduced you to myself and to my garden. There are two other characters in this story that require an introduction: my two dogs, Leo and Bella. Today’s chapter introduces my first born: Leodog Venables Maxwell, Maltese Terrier, born 30.11.2020:

[ Bella (left) and Leo (right), 19 September 2022 ]

Leo is a bimbo. The sweetest, dopiest dumb-dumb who ever lived. A few days ago it occurred to me who he reminds me of - Winnie-the-Pooh. Just the most good-natured, stupid little bear there ever was. When he was a puppy he would quite often amble into (and audible bonk his head on) furniture. To this day, if I say ‘look over there’ and point left, he’ll look right. It makes me laugh every time. He’s the only dog I’ve ever known who, when you dummy “throwing” a ball, is still looking for where the ball went minutes later. Even if it is quite obviously still in my hand.

Yes, he is very, very stupid.

[ Leo on the drive home, 31 January 2021 ]

But he is also pure comedy gold. I enjoy comedy of all kinds, but the thing that is most likely to make me laugh out loud is slapstick. And Leo is the master of it. A couple of days ago he was sprinting after another dog on the common and fell down a hole (he’s fine).

He makes me laugh out loud at least once a day. At least.

[ Mugshot, 15 July 2023 ]

Leo has platinum-level, pure-Aryan-race style breeding. I found his breeder through the Kennel Club and when I went to collect him I was handed a document detailing the kind of centuries-back lineage that would make the Royal House of Norway blush. This tiny creature - barely bigger than a hamster - was the product of generations of award-winning, shagging, shaggy terriers.

All dog breeds are influenced by their heritage. Bella, a miniature dachshund, was bred (historically at least) to hunt badgers and rabbits. Leo was bred to be a cushion. He loves to have a gallop around the park with Bella, but then he is more than happy to sleep on a chair for the rest of his day.

[ A cushion in a pile of cushions, 23 September 2022 ]

Generations of careful genetic couplings have honed his instincts so that if someone sits down and creates a ‘lap’ within his immediate vicinity, he not only wants to sit on the lap, he must sit on the lap. It has been encoded into his DNA over millennia.

Most people will humour him. But if ever there is someone too proper to love a small, friendly cushion on their lap, he will hurl himself at the lap. It is really an extraordinary sight, this otherwise benign dog so desperate and determined, shuffling back to take a run up and hurling himself (inevitably) at someone’s knees. He (inevitably) doesn’t reach the knees, and slides downs the shins to the floor. See above re: slapstick.

Once, one of my oldest friends came over to introduce me to her new baby. When she sat down on the sofa and started feeding the sweet, few-days-old baby, Leo threw himself onto the lap. Where the baby was already sitting. Launching himself off the arm of the sofa like a WWE wrestler. I never saw the friend again (no, jk, she was very good natured about it, but you wouldn’t have blamed her would you?)

[ Teddy bear, 5 February 2023 ]

Leo was named after Leo McGarry, the White House Chief of Staff in the TV series, ‘The West Wing’. He is Leo, Chief of Snaff. But he is also lion-hearted, so the name fits him well. When he first started going to doggy daycare as a pup (he was so friendly and loveable that, in the end, he wasn’t put in the back of the van with the other dogs, but rode up front with the drivers) he had to quickly graduate from the ‘toy dog’ class to the slightly larger class (a lot of Spaniels) because he was so boisterous with the other tiny dogs. He plays hard.

When I first took Leo to the vet for his initial puppy check up and jabs COVID lockdowns were still in place and I had to wait in the car outside. When he was returned to me, the vet’s feedback was that Leo was “confident and wriggly”. A diagnosis that remains accurate to this day.

[ Lap dogs gunna lap, 27 August 2023 ]

He is stubborn. Sometimes as stubborn as a rock. He is wilful. Sometimes so overwhelmingly wilful that it astonishes me that such a small creature could have such a steel will. He is a grump. A real grumpus. A grumbling, moaning old sod, in the body of a small, white cushion.

I wasn’t present at the birth, but I theorise that Leo emerged from the womb like a drag queen opening a show: “HELLOOOOOOOO EVERYONE! HELLO! HI! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMING OUT!”.

He loves everyone and everything, except - sometimes - his sister. And me, if I dare to bathe him or give him eye drops (deep trauma for us both).

As a puppy he had to introduce himself to every single person we passed on the street. He changed everything about my experience of living in London. Suddenly I was talking to other people. STRANGERS. And many of them were NICE.

Leo is also, sadly, a misogynist. His two favourite people in the world are his dad (my partner at the time) and his step-dad (the guy after that, my most recent ex). He adores my younger brother, who he has known since day one. Much of the time, he seems pretty ambivalent about me. But then I go out for a couple of hours, come home, and he is so happy to see me!

Leo is in love with our barista, Erica. He thinks Erica is his girlfriend. We take our morning dog walk to a local cafe and back. Erica works shifts so she isn’t always there, but when she is he doesn’t know what to do with his tiny body. When he’s excited he curves his body into a ‘C’ shape, first one way and then the other. He serenades her with tiny, heart-felt ‘howls’ that must make his wolf ancestors turn in their graves. He will also do these little ‘awoos’ if someone is not giving him the attention he wants. Like, ‘awwooooo-excuse me! Down here!’.

Leo has been in a monogamous, sexual relationship with a stuffed white bunny rabbit from Mungo & Maud since a few days after he arrived. My best friend sent Leo his bunny as a ‘welcome home’ gift (because those are just the kind of phenomenal people I’m friends with). He makes love to it. Literally has, what would be, anatomically accurate sex with it.

When he murdered his first girlfriend, I was shocked. I came home to find her stuffing scattered down a corridor, leading to her lifeless body. I threw away the now biohazardous bunny.

But then he had no sex life. So I bought another, and again he made love to it. This pattern has repeated ever since. Unfortunately, his gratification comes at a considerable cost - bunny costs £27.50! - but I can’t bring myself to deny him this basic pleasure.

It continued after he was neutered. He particularly seeks her out if he ever gets fed a bit of roast chicken (his favourite, and mine). There’s quite lengthy foreplay, a lot of kissing, and to my mind he behaves like a gentleman.

Most mornings I wake up and the first thing I see is his butt immediately next to my face. And while many of you may be recoiling in disgust, I love that fluffy butt so much that I don’t mind. Now that is true love. Certainly it is difficult to imagine there ever being a human relationship where I would feel similar.

Leo mostly refuses to jump on to a chair etc and prefers to be picked up. When he wants to be picked up, he communicates this and then turns 90 degrees so that he is facing away from you, making it easy for him to be scooped up. It is my favourite thing probably in the world. I say, “do you want to come up?” and he pivots, assuming the position, and then pushes off a little with his legs to give the lift some momentum.

Everyone, everyone falls in love with Leo. He is the sweetest, easiest, best dog in the whole world. The best starter dog for the uninitiated. He is a living example of why ignorance is bliss.

There is much more I could tell you, but Leo has just shuffled over to stare at me and made a quiet, disappointed noise - something between a scoff and a harrumph - to indicate that it is 9pm and it is time for his walk.