To train or not to train?

'Haven't you taken Arrow to puppy classes yet?'

The cut-glass tones rang out over the village green.

'Oh, hello Diana. Err no, I'm training Arrow myself,' Ginny replied, rather defensively I thought.

'First dog is it?' Diana's strident tones rang out again. The whole of Aston Peverell would be in no doubt that Diana Perrington was out and about. To say she had a voice like a fog-horn would be understating it. Not only is her voice loud but it is shrill. And it is very, very posh. Posher than posh in fact. And what Diana Perrington doesn't know about Springer Spaniels isn't worth knowing as she tells Ginny, every time we have the misfortune to bump into her on one of our walks.

'Springers need a very firm hand. If you don't show them who's boss when they're young you'll never get them to behave.' Diana is always full of advice.

It's funny that whenever people see Ginny out with me they offer sympathetic comments usually along the lines of: 'It's alright, springers start to calm down when they're about 10' or 'He'll keep you fit, Ginny, they want two hours walk every day.'

Ginny takes it all in her stride although I think I do wear her out a little now and then. I heard her talking to Clive last night. 'It's like before you have your first baby,' she said. 'Every one tells you what it's going to be like. You know, the sleepless nights, the teething, the chewing, the crying. But until you do it you have absolutely no idea what it's really like, and then it's too late. Arrow's like that. I knew it would be hard work but I didn't realise it would be just like having a baby. He howls at night, his teeth are falling out, he chews everything he can find and he wakes us all up at five in the morning raring to go. I'm absolutely shattered.'

Clive was less than sympathetic. 'Well getting a dog was your idea Ginny.' He was busy sussing out the odds for The Derby at the time - only half an ear on the conversation as usual. I wouldn't say Clive has taken well to having a dog around the house. He's still miffed that Festus hardly ever comes home nowadays.

'Diana Perrington says I ought to take him to puppy class.'

'Haven't you spent enough money on him already?'

The issue of money and me is a sore point at the moment. Ginny is quite economical with the truth when it comes to canine spending. But Clive sat down last week and totted up how much expenditure had been incurred on my behalf (totted up the amount he knows about anyway).

First there was the fee to my breeder, then the chicken wire and fence posts to make the garden dog-proof, then my dog-bed, bedding, toys, food, emergency trips to the vet, non-emergency trips to the vet. Clive was counting on his fingers. 'Ginny we're well on our way to spending a thousand pounds on a b****y animal! How much are dog training classes?'

'Oh not much. I don't know a couple of quid a week . . .'

'And how long will he have to go for?'

'I don't know, until he's trained I suppose.'

'No. We can't afford it.'

And that was the end of the matter.