By group eidtor Nicola Priest I’M SURE there are other people who have chaotic lives but just lately I feel as if my time is never my own.

On Sunday my son asked me to look after his dog, a West Highland white terrier called Dougal.

He and his girlfriend are doing up their new house and he said the dog would be all on his own.

I was told to put Dougal in the dog carrier when I collected him in my car. What he didn’t mention was that the carrier is massive.

By pushing and shoving I eventually got it in the front seat of the car but then realised I couldn’t get the handbrake off. More shoving needed.

I planned to take Dougal for a walk as soon as we got to our house.

Mid journey my elder son rang asking for a lift as he’d had to leave his car at the garage. So I went to pick him up before realising that 6ft 2” of son plus dog plus carrier were not all going to fit.

We took Dougal out of the carrier, moved things from the boot and shoved it in. Dougal was safely in the footwell. He seemed very happy there until I realised he’d discovered my granddaughter’s Barbie and had not only ripped her dress exposing her ample assets but she was also now maimed as he’d chewed both her hands off.

Once home as soon as we opened the car door, the dog made a bid for freedom and ran up the road. My son chased after him, finding him in a neighbour’s garden. I got the lead and attached him to it to take him for a walk.

It was clear that Dougal has no road sense and I, despite previously owning two dogs, had not got the hang of the retractable lead. I’m not sure who was in control.

When we got back I thought he couldn’t come to much harm in the back garden while I made a cup of tea. While the kettle boiled I watched Dougal trample over the flowerbeds, try to eat what’s left of the tomato plant and drink the dirty water in the bird bath.

Then he had a fine time rolling around on the lawn. By the time he came back into the kitchen his white fur was caked in soil.

I decided it was probably easier to keep an eye on him in the house.

In the corner of the hall he found a cushion football, a novelty gift my husband got last Christmas. Dougal alternated between chasing it and chewing it. While he was amused I did a few chores. But all had gone quiet and when I checked on him he’d stop chasing and chewing the cushion and was now humping it.

Horrified I took it off him. I’m sure he looked a little bit ashamed.

Eventually I sat down on the sofa with my tea and Dougal jumped up beside me, muddy paws on the cream cushions. Damage done I left him there and he fell asleep, no doubt dreaming of cushion footballs!

Peace at last, at least for five minutes.