Tim Dowling: we’re looking after a puppy. It’s riding our dog

Tim Dowling: we’re looking after a puppy. It’s riding our dog

I set my alarm for 7am to release the puppy from the cage at its accustomed hour, but when it goes off, my wife is already downstairs, the tiny dog running figures of eight round her ankles.“I knew you’d be down here, sucking up to it,” I say.“Did you want to be the one to let it out?” she says.“No,” I lie.“The extractor fan man will be here soon,” she says.“That’s today?” I say.