banned

WOOFS from London, which is where I am at the moment, doing important and dynamic things, such as cat reconnaissance, squirrel surveillance and taking my human to pick up the newspapers each morning or visit the bank and Post Office.

Well, actually, since my last visit doglets have been banned from the Post Office. As we got to the front of the queue yesterday our way was barred by a woman wearing a badge that said, 'HELLO, CAN I HELP YOU?'.

Why is it that when humans say, ‘Hello, can I help you?’ in a certain tone of voice, it often means the exact opposite?

I thought she was going to be helpful and offer me a bowl of water or a biscuit. Instead, she said the words that no four-legged chap likes to hear:

'Dogs aren't allowed in here.'

'But what harm is he doing?' said my human.

'He might pee on the carpet,' said the official.

As if.

'I promise you, he won't,' said my pet.

'Not everyone likes dogs,' said the official tersely, though the people I'd met in the queue seemed to like me.

'We live in strange times,' said the customer at the next counter, shaking his head. 'They'll be banning humans next.'

It made me feel a little better but honestly, why would anyone want to deprive a dog of the pleasure of queuing for a couple of hours in the Post Office?

Accompanying our humans to buy stamps is a canine rite of passage and one of the first things that we four-pawed folk learn in puppy socialisation classes.

Still, I'm enjoying my city break. So many wonderful smells and so many people stopping me in the street to ask my human what breed I am. ('A breed of his own,' she usually replies, which makes me feel very proud.)

I heard her mention 'cocktails at Claridges' on the phone the other evening. It sounds quite fancy – exactly the sort of thing I enjoy. But somehow, I don't think I'm invited.