From the Edinburgh Evening News, April 8th:

http://news.scotsman.com/opinion.cfm?id=371752005


GRANT STOTT

BEFORE we go any further, can I just point out that, contrary to last week’s column dated April 1, I have no intention whatsoever of standing at the impending General Election.

I know I didn’t catch all of you, but I caught one or two and can I just thank you for thinking what a suitable representative for Edinburgh South I’d be!

But last week’s April Fool hasn’t been the only piece of misinformation relating to me that has confused some of late.

Exactly four weeks ago, Boogie announced on the Forth One Breakfast Show that the Stott household was expecting a new addition. As you can imagine, word quickly got out and people were immediately congratulating me on the news.

It wasn’t until I got on air that I got the chance to fully explain. The addition was not a two-legged nappied variety that pooed everywhere, but a four-legged furry variety that pooed everywhere. Yes, we have got a dog.

Up until now I have resisted much pressure to make this step as I have never really been a "dog person".

Getting a dog was not the first thing that sprung to my mind when we discussed what the family needed most. Personally speaking, I was always in favour of a top-notch surround-sound home cinema system, but in this instance I was very much outnumbered. Three against one to be exact.

My main objection was I knew that once things had settled down, it would inevitably be down to muggins here to walk the little mutt on the cold damp nights and I wasn’t exactly keen to commit to that.

Unfortunately, I was outnumbered and when Claire’s sister announced she was buying a pup and his brother was still available, the writing was pretty much on the wall.

Let’s make no mistake here, we were prepared for this.

We spent a few weeks reading up on different breeds and seeking advice as to what dog would best suit our lifestyle and then before long, the food, chews, toys, bowls, bed, blankets, transporter, collar, tag and lead were all bought.

Then the big day came - on Saturday, March 5, Charlie, the nine-week-old King Charles cavalier spaniel, arrived chez Stott. And he was gorgeous. How else are you going to describe a tiny little bundle of tan and white fluff?

It didn’t take him long to settle in and he quickly learned where he was to do his business - anywhere he bloody felt like!

He soon improved in the toilet department and before long he had had all his jags and we were finally able to take him outside.

Bizarrely enough, I soon found myself voluntarily sticking the lead on him and taking him around the block. I must admit to quite enjoying the experience - although perhaps that’s only because the weather has been pretty pleasant of late.

But this is where my first lesson in puppy possession really came in - having a pup attracts an awful lot of attention. And this confuses wee Charlie.

So enthusiastic is he, about being out and about, he thinks everyone walking towards him is coming to see him, so he greets any passer-by like a long-lost friend with a tail that can wag for Scotland.

I have also been made aware that having a tiny little King Charles Cavalier puppy on the end of a little red lead isn’t exactly the butchest of dogs for a 6ft 4in bloke to be walking down the street with. But it could have been worse, Claire originally wanted a Yorkie!

So here we all are, one month into the beginning of what will hopefully be a very long and happy relationship, and already we can’t imagine the house without him.

Yes, he chews what he shouldn’t and yes he poos where he shouldn’t, but we are told that will all stop in time and Charlie will grow up to be a very important member of the family.

When that does happen, and you find yourself in our neighbourhood one damp, dark wintry night, chances are you’ll bump into someone braving the elements walking a certain Charlie the dog.

I’ll give you three guesses to figure out who that’ll be!