MY daughter Jenna called the other night to whinge about her puppy Ted.

“He did it again, mum.”

Apparently, Ted seemed to have established a fetish for ladies’ underwear.

“He somehow managed to get into the corner of my drawer and pulled out all my knickers which were in every corner of my bedroom.”

According to Jenna, this was now a regular occurrence.

And on chatting, it seemed my friend Julie had the same problem.

Apparently, her dog Millie targeted Julie’s underwear on more than one occasion.

Which was no big deal until a few weekends ago when she went out with her partner for a few drinks.

“We left the house key for Dave’s kids to make themselves at home until we returned,” she explained.

“But when the kids entered the lounge, they stopped in their tracks as the room was strewn with my knickers.

“They were under the sofa, on the armchair and there was even a pair in the plant pot!

“I was mortified, Janice,” she admitted.

“God only knows what the kids thought we had been up to before we went out.”

The following day as I stood in the queue at the supermarket, I spotted a lady waiting outside with a very cute dachshund puppy wearing a tartan coat and wagging his tail furiously.

A male customer next to me couldn’t help but comment: “That’s a braw wee dug you have there hen.”

“Thanks very much,” smiled the proud owner.

“So how much would a dug like that set you back?” he was curious.

Proudly she replied, “one thousand six hundred pounds.”

“Eh?” the shock on his face said it all.

“Fur a dug?”

And instead of leaving it at that, he added: “I’d need to sell a kidney to afford a dug like that.”

“Well... you can pay up to£3000 for a miniature dachshund,” She added.

“But that’s even less dug fur yer money,” he seemed puzzled.

And I reckon that these modern-day pooches are pampered in ways I didn’t know existed, when my friend told me about her daughter’s new puppy.

“She has her own personalised bowl, her own car seat, and a mini wardrobe bursting with coats and dog boots.”

“Dog boots?” I dared to ask my pal as she continued to enlighten me on the list of pet goodies the dog had.

“Yep, and on top of that she even has her own paddling pool.”

“Talk about posh and pampered pets.”

I relayed some of the chat to my brother Ian when he was out walking his family’s latest edition.

“None of these things existed when we were growing up,” he pointed out, recalling the pet dogs we had as children.

Irma, our wee white West Highland terrier, was our first family dog. Now there was no posh coat for Irma. No, when it was cold my mum used her initiative and cut the arms out our wee brother’s old woolly jumper. Irma was oblivious to how she looked; however, we were embarrassed letting the wee dog out in public wearing a red V-neck jumper!

Everyone in the estate knew that the only dog wearing a red woolly jumper was ours, and funnily enough the trend didn’t catch on.

Ian and I couldn’t remember ever walking the dog because, often as not, “Out you go then” was the cry as dogs were thrown out into the streets first thing in the morning. They didn’t come home again until they needed fed. (Which was much the same for us as children!)

Whereas nowadays you can buy your dog treats, dental bones, mineral and vitamin supplements and special diet food, in our day dogs were fed a tin of Kennomeat and, if they were lucky, the leftovers from the dinner table.

“And now in between dog grooming at a dog parlour, you can shampoo you dog with special dog shampoo,” I said.

“Yep,” Ian agreed. “Irma’s coat was brushed once a week and she was washed with Fairy Liquid every few months!”

“Ian, you can even get an orthopaedic bed for your dog,” I added.

We laughed as we remembered that Irma slept on a tartan shawl on the floor and seemed quite content just to be in a nice warm kitchen.

“Do you know, Ian, that if your dog is ill you can buy a canine cough remedy, and there are anti-nausea drugs for sick dogs?”

“Mum could have done with that when Lady [our second dog] was ill,” he laughed.

You see, I happened to notice that Lady was lying placidly in a fluffy bundle in the corner of the room.

“Is Lady okay mum?”

Bleary eyed, she shook her head

“I’ve been up all night, Janice.”

Before I could say a word: “Lady. She’s been sick as a dog.”

“But mum she is a...”

No special medicines for poor Lady, but whatever home-made potion mum gave her, she was good as new the next day.