Maybe everybody needs a Hugo so that they can test out a man’s mettle? The Hugo test could be part of my armoury, if I ever get an actual date. If a guy backs down when faced with this, then I know they lack guts and will be crap in an emergency. I’ll be abandoned to my own devices. It’s not that I want a man to save me, but a bit of teamwork is always good.

‘Oh, totally forgot to mention it on the form, but he’s scared stiff of umbrellas! I know, incredible, isn’t it?’ Ophelia guffaws loudly. ‘He’s such a baby still, aren’t you, Hugh-gy woogy? Just hang on tight if you spot one, haw-haw! But you’ll be fine, the sun is out. It’s so good of you to do this at such short notice; the girl who normally has him has got flu, and the other one has had to work overtime, and I was beginning to panic!’ I think she’s talking fast so I can’t get a word in. A word like ‘no’. ‘Peregrine was sure I was going to have to miss the first race, and he knows I can’t take Hugo with me as he’s scared of horses! Isn’t that a hoot? Who would have thought it! Honestly, you’d never know his ancestors could bring down a wild boar, would you?’ I don’t have time to say he’s unlikely to be challenged by one of those as she’s throwing food and dog accessories in all directions. ‘Right, sorry, have to dash, I should be back by ten o’clock. That is okay, isn’t it? Oh, you’re a star. See you later, Hugo, sweetie. Be a good boy.’ She kisses his noble head, reaches over him so she can press his leash into my hand and dashes off to her sleek and polished Jaguar F-Type, which is parked in the no-parking spot. ‘Probably needs a wee, we didn’t have time for walkies!’ She yells out of her window as she’s pulling away.

Bugger. How do I get past him to close the door? I step one leg over, and he shifts. For one horrible moment I have a vision of him rising up underneath me, leaving my feet dangling, so I go for it. Shoot over the top and land half in and half out of the door.

‘Well hurdled! Didn’t know you had a four-legged beastie!’ Yells the middle-aged man from next door, who is putting his bins out. He’s taken to dressing, and talking, like an army major lately. I’m not quite sure if he’s practising method acting (he’s in the local am-dram group) or trying to impress the lady who has just moved in three doors down, but it is weird.

‘Not mine!’ I yell back, retreating on all fours.

‘Damned fine specimen. Watch out for rear guard action, m’dear. Might see that pretty backend of yours as an invitation!’

‘What?’ I roll over, alarmed. But Hugo shows no sign of any kind of action. He has his large head resting on his enormous paws. Drooling jowls flopping down to the floor.