I snuffled around the base of the kitchen table, wiggling my rear against the tiled floor, my tiny tail moving with it. Magnificent though I am, in dog terms, I’m just not all that tall, and try as I might I couldn’t even see the box from close up, let alone reach it. I eyed the kitchen chairs. A more energetic dog might attempt to jump up, I supposed, but my legs weren’t long enough to make it, and I didn’t fancy the indignity of falling flat on my snout on the kitchen floor if I tried.

I did fancy the interesting smells, though. They smelt delicious.

I’d just sat back on my haunches to consider my options, when a foot collided with my side. I scampered back with a whine.

‘Oh!’ Daisy, one of my people, cried out as she stumbled, dropping the stack of presents she was carrying so they scattered across the table. And the floor. And one of the chairs. There was red and gold shiny paper everywhere. Glitter rained down from above, sparkly and shiny (but not good to eat. I’d checked).

‘Claude! What are you doing there? Honestly, how do you always seem to know exactly the wrong place to sit? Oliver!’ Daisy sounded cross. Daisy didn’t often sound cross, so I made a point of listening carefully. Usually, Daisy sounded fun, and full of laughter, and like she might give me treats at any moment just for managing not to drool on her new shoes (that happened last week). But not today.

Today, I didn’t think Daisy was in the mood to give me any treats at all. And definitely not any of the food that was making the interesting smells in the box.

This was not good.

Oliver, Daisy’s husband, appeared in the doorway. He didn’t look in much of a better mood than Daisy. ‘What?’

‘Put Claude in his crate in the car, will you? He’s being such a nuisance.’ Personally, I’d argue that the person who came into the kitchen, kicked me by accident and threw presents and glitter everywhere was much more of a nuisance. I gave a sharp bark to show my disagreement, but Daisy just glared at me. ‘At least if he’s in his crate he’s ready to go, and it’s one less thing for me to trip over in this bloody house.’

I do not like my crate. Well, it’s okay for a while, I suppose. But it’s not nearly as comfortable as my basket.

I turned big eyes and ears on Oliver, and hoped he was feeling sympathetic.

‘Already? Shouldn’t we wait until we’re ready to go?’ Good man, Oliver.

‘We are ready,’ Daisy snapped. Oliver gave the presents littering the kitchen a pointed look. ‘Or we would be, if I wasn’t the only one doing the packing.’

‘I’ll put Claude in the car,’ Oliver said quickly, self-defence obviously winning out over sympathy. I couldn’t really blame him. And actually, with Daisy in this mood, maybe I’d be safer out there anyway.

I’d be glad when all this Christmas chaos was over and Daisy could go back to being the lovely human I knew she was. A lovely human with doggy treats, preferably. As much fun as Christmas was – with all the presents and interesting smells and lights on the tree – I didn’t like how grumpy it made Daisy.

‘Good. Then come back for the Christmas hamper.’ Daisy waved a hand at the box of interesting smells. ‘And don’t forget the twins’ special present! I’ll get the rest of the gifts in the car, then we can round up the kids and get them loaded up too.’

‘If there’s still room for them,’ Oliver muttered, under his breath.

I hoped he was joking. My ears had perked up a little at the mention of the kids. As much as I loved Daisy and Oliver, their children were far more fun. Especially Jay who, now he was six, had stopped trying to ride me and could play some really good games. The twins were too little to do anything much yet, but I was looking forward to watching them grow up. I hoped they’d be as much fun as Jay. Bella was older, but liked to take me for a walk sometimes – usually when she wanted to get away from her parents. She talked to me occasionally, too, curled up on the sofa when her family weren’t looking. I think she liked having someone who could only bark back.

But still, I have to admit, Jay is my favourite person ever.

‘Come on, Claude old boy.’ Oliver hauled me into his arms and headed

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