TODAY I brought granddaughter Jess home to stay with us for a few days, and her Labrador Blue. This has already caused chaos as Blue, being the only boy in the company of our three bitches, is determined to check out their desirability as possible mates.

One of the ways is apparently peeing in strategic places in the kitchen, which has led to his immediate banishment to the playroom where he is currently sulking beside our youngest granddaughter Sophie’s pink palace and doll's house.

What will calm matters down outside is the demise of our two remaining geese. They had teasing the dogs down to an art, which you may remember had led to one of them losing their beak when they poked it just an inch or two too far through the wire fence.

I had taken the case for a stay of execution for these two almost to The Hague, but today I have just returned from an overnight babysitting stay with Ollie our grandson, to find two beautifully dressed (in as for the oven, not a night out) geese on the kitchen table. Their taunting days are over.

Tomorrow is another shoot and Jess will be driving John around in the gator while a friend and I prepare a shoot dinner for the end of the day. “Can I take Blue?” she asked her grandfather, which was met with a very swift rebuttal. John still cannot drive as his new knee continues to be very painful. And the last thing he wants is a nutcase Labrador bouncing from one side of the gator cab to the other. He already has a spaniel who can do that.

But at least one of the dogs shone yesterday. We had to worm the lambs and it was one of those jobs where the skill of a well-trained dog shines. If only we had one. Joking. Of course we do. Fizz, our lovely border collie, who when not eyeing up the now deceased geese (ooh it rhymes, almost) with a plan to bite off another of their beaks, is scheming how to get those lambs in a pen and then give them a quick nip to demonstrate who is the real boss round here.

John hobbled into the field, restricted not only by his knee, but also by his assistant under shepherd. Moi. Fizz shot in. Raced up to the lambs, then crouched in front menacingly while she zapped their minds into daring to defy her in any way when it came to running into the collecting pen for worming. Our two city dog visitors have a lot to learn about who is the real top dog round here.