I want to share a personal favourite with you now. It’s a game I have invented (and may seek the patent for) which provides hours of fun for you and your…well, for you, anyway. And that’s the most important thing. This game is called Sniffgate. You’ve heard of Watergate? It’s a bit like that, except it’s not American, there’s no president involved and no tape recorders or wiretaps. In fact, it’s nothing like Watergate at all. I don’t know why I said that. Anyhoo, what you do

Spherical objects. Round things. I can’t get enough of them. Footballs, golf balls – have you ever chewed one of those apart? Boy, that’s a lot of elastic. Rubber balls, tennis balls…tennis balls…tennnisss balllsss…tennis…Sorry, drifted off for a moment there.   I think I may have an addiction.   My human is definitely unimpressed with my fondness for round things. I suspect this is due to the numerous times she’s been dragged across parks, fields and busy roads to pick up a

I love the beach. It’s a wild, romantic, mystical place with wide skies, rolling waves, and unexpected treasures like a dead seal or a half-eaten kebab. On one beach trip I met a Labrador called Bob and we got on like a house on fire. (At this point, I would like to emphasise the fact that I have never actually set a house on fire) (Yet).  Anyway, Bob and I roamed the sands together, splashing in the shallows and sniffing random clumps of seaweed. And then we experienced the

I’m still mystified by my human’s fascination for my poo and the fact that she collects it in specially-designed bags. How weird is that? I hope she’s not keeping it all in shoeboxes somewhere.   To liven up her life and give her more exercise, I have devised a game I like to call Poo Points. The game is played on any expanse of grass – the bigger the better – and is most effective when the grass hasn’t been cut for several weeks.   Here’s how I play:   I’m out walking with m

Hi, I’m Elvis, the handsome chap in the photograph. I’m a Labradoodle, I’m nine and a bit, and I live in Scotland with my human. And I’m devastatingly handsome – I can’t stress that enough. My human is an artist. She slaps paint on flat boards and makes weird-looking stuff, that’s all I can say. She’s also a writer and her books are about a dead serial killer and a talking Glaswegian dog. I’m keeping an eye on the gin bottle… Anyway, I’m here to give you the benefit of my exp

Foreword by Elvis’s human Angela Cowan Hello, I’m Angela Cowan (the one on the right), an author and artist from Kilmarnock in Scotland, and I share a house with Elvis Doodle. Or should I say, he lets me cohabit here, as long as I feed him, buy him treats and let him sleep on the settee, my bed, and pretty much anywhere else he likes. Apparently, I signed a contract to this effect when he was a puppy, although I don’t remember doing this. Elvis says that’s due to my advancing