There's never a right time to get a dog.

Inbetween Maud and Old Deer, there's a farm with three amazing working dogs. Dad is a proud short haired black and white collie, who likes a head rub inbetween work duties. Mum is a collie Huntingway cross, and the son, who towers over his parents, is a formidable mix of the two. They are also partial to a head rub. Mum and dad had another litter recently, an amazing 13 in number. Super Mum. Neighbour Pat let us know about them.

We met most of them tonight, bounding over each other in a cosy straw strewn barn. One made a beeline for Dave. The last of the black ones, standing out amid a sea of happy black and white fluffy bundles. Before we knew it, he had the puppy in his arms and that was that. Kids were a bit shellshocked, as was the puppy, a bit shaky and scared.

The journey home I got to hold him. "Are you sure you don't need a cover, he might be sick?" Said the farmer, "oh no, it'll be fine", I said, made delirious on puppy fumes. We hadn't even reached Maud and the first vomit happened. I was still delirious on puppy fumes, it was okay. The second vomit pushed my nasal passages to the edge, but still I cuddled him in close.

Home and much thanks to Pat who rescued us with crate, stair gate, puppy pads, blankets and everything we'd need, including a tigger teddy from Boss Dog. Puppy boy started finding his feet, fell in love with Dave, marvelled at the cat....Poor Thumper....then settled in for the night. I say settled in, let's just say I slept on the dining room floor and there was a lot of yowling...from the dog, not me. I mainly moaned, floored by a cold. But he has a name now, Max. Probably Mad Max soon enough.

I HAVE A DOG!!