Our house is back to having just one dog now, although I’m not sure how Bonnie is feeling about that, writes Clinton Rogers.

But I suppose when you consider the default look of a King Charles Spaniel is that of a wounded diva, it’s hard to be sure!

For a week we’ve been looking after our daughter’s dog, Bruno, while they’ve been away on holiday.

He’s a Pugalier (a cross between a Pug and a Cavalier).

And before you say, "Isn’t that just a Heinz 57?' may I warn you my daughter is easily offended!

The two hounds don’t fight, but nor do they seem that friendly with each other.

I can best describe their relationship as one of mutual disinterest.

It has, however, been a fascinating study in canine psychology to see them together.

For one thing, their eating habits couldn’t be more different.

Bruno can demolish his bowl of dried biscuits in less time than it takes me to put Bonnie’s bowl on the floor.

Truly, it’s brutal!

Her ladyship, on the other hand, eats so slowly that every day she’s in danger of having her breakfast stolen from under her nose by the lodger.

My wife says it’s merely the cultural difference between men and women – I’m eating my dinner more gracefully since she made that rather cynical observation.

And when it comes to walking, it’s like comparing a frustrated athlete with a couch potato.

Bruno jumps around like an over-excited rabbit at the mere sight of the lead.

Bonnie, on the other hand, will hide behind the settee rather than venture out, especially if it’s raining.

Our vet had a comical, yet rather apt explanation for it.

He said: "You need to understand that every time your King Charles walks out the door she assumes you are headed for a five-star hotel with an Italian restaurant.

"And if you’re not – forget it."

So true.

It did cause one embarrassing incident in the week.

I managed to get both of them on a lead and walked out the door.

I’d only got halfway down the drive when her ladyship dug her heels in and refused to go any further.

So I turned tail and headed back to the front door.

But no… the canine athlete wasn’t turning back.

So there I am being pulled in different directions by dogs that aren’t that much bigger than the average moggie.

Ah well… at least it amused the neighbours!