With hindsight, perhaps my response was extreme, possibly unethical. It confirmed though that I am not to be trifled with.

Three years ago, I woke suddenly to the sound of Blue, my normally good-natured canine, growling fiercely. Adrenaline surging, all thoughts of sleep banished, I got up to investigate what had alarmed him. On opening my bedroom door, two things struck me – firstly, I did not remember leaving the yellow night light on and secondly, I could hear footsteps from downstairs. I lived alone, with the dog next to me, remaining vigilant with his sharp, white teeth on show.

“Go!” I commanded. He ran, snarling and barking as he rushed down the curve of the stairs. I remained upstairs, fighting the urge to follow, and wincing as the fight started – the growls offset against the swearing and the crashing. It sounded like Blue was winning but I was uncertain, holding my breath. I rasped an overdue inhalation as I heard footsteps running to the back door, accompanied by the clatter of Blue’s claws on the wooden flooring. A sudden silence. Then happier paw-steps trotted their way back to me; a bloodied, torn cloth proudly presented as a trophy – presumably from the intruder’s clothing. Blue had performed marvellously as a guardian, protecting me and our territory.

I had never been more impressed.

I packed the bloodied cloth into a sealable plastic bag as I called 999 to report the burglary and the few items of plunder the perpetrator had managed to escape with. They were of no value, not even sentimentally. I was offended more by the invasion, the violation of the crime than the losses incurred.

Back then, I was a practicing dentist. That morning I reached my offices in time for my first patient, due in for a root canal; a potentially excruciating operation if the pain management medicine was incorrectly injected.

Rodgers arrived a few minutes late and clearly in some discomfort from a poorly bandaged wrist, patches of blood oozing through.

“Oh my! What happened? Let me clean that for you and bandage it properly.”

“Thanks” he hissed, wincing as I stripped the cotton from his arm “Damn dog bit me last night. Reckon it’s infected.”

“I agree. I think you need to go and see your doctor; it looks nasty. You must have been up to no good to receive a mauling like that.” I joked as I completed cleaning and wrapping his wound. “But it will wait for a couple of hours – as you’re here anyway, let’s get on with your treatment.

“Now lean back, relax – this won’t hurt a bit” I reassured him as I injected the pain medicine, missing the inferior alveolar nerve. “Funnily enough, my dog bit someone last night, a trespasser who broke into my home. The police are on their way here to interview me once we’re done here.” I continued innocently, relishing watching the colour drain from his face as the precariousness of his situation slowly began to register.