Apparently my arboreal fancies have gone too far. Earlier tonight my dog mistook me for a tree. At the dog park, I sat on the ground, while Lester went about his doggy business. Then he came and sat next to me, him and another couple of dogs. And then my trusty canine companion lifted his hind leg and began urinating on my knee.

He stopped when I began squealing in protest.

Perhaps it was a momentary glitch in the doggy mind matrix. He was interacting with another dog at the time ... well, as far as Lester interacts with other dogs; social interaction for him really is all about domination. But perhaps he was so caught up in what he was doing that, mindful of needing to do wee number 47, he forgot for a second that he wasn't standing next to the gum tree further over in the park, but was in fact standing next to the person who is supposed to be higher up in the doggy pack than he is but who is thinking maybe she ought to start doing a bit more pack hierarchy reinforcing.

Perhaps he was doggishly staking his claim - this is my mum, leave her alone (he is rather jealous, I have to say. He doesn't like me talking to other dogs. He comes rushing over when he sees me indulging in such treason, so I have to get my cuddles surreptitiously).

Five minutes later, after the laughter had stopped and I was busy being kissed by Oscar the Husky with the sexy blue eyes (he's rather the ladies' man), I felt another warm trickle on my leg. This time it was the Golden Retriever, expelling his hot, smelly waste on top of Lester's previous efforts.

Totally disgusted, and tired of playing a fire hydrant, I stood up to receive the profuse apologies of the Golden Retriever's two-legged pet who rushed over, regretting this never-before-displayed bad behaviour of his canine. I assured him that his dog was only following suit from my own. We then turned to watch my dog trying to hump his dog any which way he could, despite growls and raised hackles.

The Golden Retriever's pet remarked that Lester was rather like a footballer in his behaviour. I'm inclined to agree with him. He hasn't lived up to his Mr Naughty moniker for years, always such a beautifully well-behaved boy, except for displays of testosterone to other dogs. Not since the first few days when we rescued him from the pound, and he went crazy in his exuberant release from prison - ripping up a pillow and flinging its innards all over the yard until it looked like it had been snowing. Eating Mark's dinner. Chewing up his shoe. Pooing inside. Ever since those early days of doggy badness, he's been a lovely boy. Tonight, he somewhat redressed the balance :)