REGULAR readers (Hello to you both!) might remember my excerpts from the diary I kept during the life of Scud, our wee rescue dog, now long departed.

Here is another, written in November 2015, under a year before she passed away...

Scud, our own wee rescue dog, is getting older.

Stretched out in front of the fire, I noticed the grey around her muzzle and the loss of muscle in her forehead that is so typical of advancing years.

When she stands for any length of time, there is an involuntary tremor in her hind legs that reminds me of how my old gran's hands used to shake. It once was that driving up to the house prompted a great whirling and barking, as she gleefully announced my imminent arrival to the rest of the family. Now, I am often long settled in the kitchen before she looks up and almost sheepishly wonders how on earth I got there. I don’t think dogs understand their loss of hearing very well.

But there is life in the old dog yet and, unlike some geriatrics who suffer from Canine Cognitive Disorder, she is still sharp as a tack mentally. This is proved by her retention of her superiority in the 'Drop Factor'.

Discovered as a trait long ago by the children, Scud, like many natural survivors, has an uncanny knack of knowing how likely it is that different food substances will fall to the floor, thus providing her with a welcome and tasty addition to her daily ration. This ability was honed out of many hours spent gazing at the kids as they ate and Scud has succeeded in making it to near Olympic standard.

Thus she knows, for example, that a croissant is superior to a slice of toast, a bag of crisps is preferable to an apple, and biscuits and cheese are worth it, whereas a Mars Bar is definitely not. She is also aware, as you might expect, that where there is a choice between tracking Ellie or Bill, then the latter is a safe bet. And if Grandpa is here for dinner then all bets are off and anything goes.

Now, while some might harshly call this behaviour 'begging', I prefer to think of it as contributing to the family as a whole by maintaining a clean environment on the floor and saving electricity on the vacuum cleaner. All of which is very good for the planet and my wife in general.

The habit does, however, generate some risks. Grabbing at anything that falls from your hands when eating is all well and good until a sharp utensil is dropped (prompting great cries of 'Leave!') and hot items pose a real threat to future well-being. I remember a patient who was presented for treatment a short while after he had swallowed whole a hot sausage that had slipped from a plate straight out the microwave.

Despite immediate first aid from his owner, he was euthanased a few days later due to horrific scarring of his oesophagus. All beggars beware.