right, Rowlf

Try this. Take one Irish Water Spaniel. Wash, de-tangle, comb, brush, groom. Step back to make sure you have made a good job. Go to the kitchen to grab a drink. Return to dog. Check for tangles, knots, twigs, leaves and general crap. I guarantee you will find all of the above - and more - under the legs, behind the ears, on the chest...everywhere! It does not matter how thoroughly you groom your hound, as an amateur you will never, EVER detangle your spaniel. Ever.

Rowlf is a fine looking specimen all the same. I have no idea how he sees out from under his top-knot of curls. He has some wispy curls on his otherwise smooth snout. A smooth throat with a couple of turkeyish skin folds drops into a mass of curls in which smaller mammals could get lost. I found three schoolkids in there yesterday; they'd been lost for a week. His back and sides are a mass of curls. The curls straighten somewhat on his semi-sun-bleached lower flanks. The colour is dangerously close to ginger, which on a dog looks far better than on a human. His chest and belly are smooth. If you want to make a friend for life you need only slap his bald undercarriage or rub it vigorously. He lurvessss that action! The legs are thick with more cascading curls that give way to huge feet. Apart from the backs of his back legs; viewed from behind you see some straighter hair in an uturned 'U' beneath his tail. It looks curiously like he is wearing chaps. The tail itself is thickening up where it attaches to his muscular butt. A few inches down and it all goes horribly wrong, unless you're an IWS fan. In which case the whiptail is perfect.

He is completely mad. Occasionally he will stand erect, regal, and give a few gruff barks. He's faitly quiet though. He is incredibly attentive and alert. When he wants to be. He is also easily bored, and reverts to type quickly, mooching and goofing around like a big uncoordinated clown. Rumpole - of course - continues to bark like an old-school English-football-hooligan. A metaphoric - that's metaphoric - kick in the arse shuts him up.

Rowlf likes nothing more, after the belly rubs, than to sit quietly, methodically destroying things. He is indiscriminate and will destroy anything, including his bedding and parts of the house. To be fair he only spent a couple of days destroying bits of the house before we taught him not to, or he got bored; I suspect the latter. A particular favourite is toilet rolls. He knows it is wrong. If he is spotted wandering off with a loo roll in his jaws a command of 'leave it' results in him dropping it and keeping on walking, as if nothing had happened. If a dog could whistle I am sure he would whistle a happy tune as he mooched off; "me? Toilet roll? No idea what you're talking about..."

He is very smart, yet at the same time dumb as a stump. No matter what I try I cannot get him to fetch in the garden. I will throw something and he will bound after it. He will either start to destroy it on the spot or will pick it up and take it somewhere else. He will then run to the spot he retrieved the item from and stand looking back at me. His expression is one of bemusement as he wonders why I am not once again throwing the thing he has not fetched. In the park or on the beach the fetch games are far more successful. Until he suspects it is time to stop playing, when I have to employ all manner of deception to convince him to stop what he does not want to stop. Incredibly dumb or borderline genius-dog? You decide...

For one so hairy he deals with temperature extremes (extremes with a very small 'e') quite well. Ten degrees centigrade is the cut off temperature at which the boys are allowed to sleep inside at night. Rowlf, I am fairly sure, would happily sleep outside if it was minus 10. Rumpole is a bit softer. Rowlf, the big shaggy mutt that he is, plonks himself right in front of the heater. Right in front. His hair wafts in the breeze the thing kicks out. He absorbs all the heat while Sal and I freeze our arses off.

He is an utter git.

He is great.