I am Lochinvar. Lochy when I’m good, Lochinvar when I’m bad.

I was named after a champion West Highland Terrier in England. My owner saw a photo of the champion Lochinvar in the West Highland Terrier Gazette April 1920 edition. He was very handsome (looks like me). True to my name, I am a champion. I don’t need blue ribbons, rosettes, trophies and strutting in front of show judges. I know I am. My owner tells me I am the most intelligent dog in the world. I am the vainest dog in the world. I am the most photogenic dog in the work. I am the cuddliest dog in the world. And I believe her because I know it to be true.

I have decided to share with you the conversations that my owner has with me. Everyday, all times of the day and night. She explains things to me as if I am an idiot. I am not. I am the most intelligent dog in the world.

Let me begin. I am a West Highland Terrier. Strong of character, strong of build. I am a ratter but that will be explained in another chapter. I might be fluffy but do not think that I am a lap dog. Far from it. I have made it clear to my owner that it’s my way or the highway. However, she feeds me so I have to temper my natural desire to be the dominant male.

She is constantly stating the bleeding obvious. The other day she walks into her office. I am snoozing under the desk, my favourite spot because it is dark and quiet and she never sits under here.

“Lochy, did you fart?”

Of course I farted. That is a fresh meat fart smell from last night’s dinner still being processed inside me. I am the only living creature in the room. Books don’t fart, a computer doesn’t fart, the printer can make farting noises but it doesn’t smell. This one was particularly pungent, but silent. My farts are always silent. Unlike hers. Big rolling firecracker sounds from under the bedclothes in the morning. I know about firecrackers because we live very close to a street where the Chinese people walk with giant dragons on Chinese New Year. Then they let off firecrackers outside the shops.

Her farts don’t smell. Much. Probably because she doesn’t eat half-cooked red meat. Mainly vegetables. She tries to get me to eat vegetables. Devious sly attempts to mix steamed and mashed pumpkin, sweet potato, celery into my food. It’s a waste of time. I am very adept at sorting the meat from the vegies with my nose.

A nose is a multitasking appendage. Breathing is necessary but also useful for sniffing other dogs, sniffing lamp posts, fences and footpaths, pushing vegetables out of the way, nudging my owner when I want her attention, feeling the blowing air when I sit with my head out of the car window. She calls it a truffle nose because it is pure black with little pores. It is rather attractive especially sitting between my piercing dark brown eyes….as I said, I am the world’s vainest dog.