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One of the very worst moments, the very worst, was when we found the new puppy had laid a fresh wet poo in the chewed remains of a treasured crocheted glove. Which a friend had made for me.

(There are numerous other terrible wool-related disasters I may relate at another date.)

Actually I’m now remembering many more moments. The time the chair slowly keeled over onto the floor when it’s middle support had been gnawed away and simply couldn’t hold on any longer.

Or how she would patiently wait until her newly washed bedding had literally just come off the line before jumping into the laundry basket and weeing straight into the middle of it.

Or the time she dug a hole under a very unstable newly planted shrub and we found it upended the next morning, waving it’s last broken roots forlornly at the sky…

I think that’s when we turned to each other and asked the awful question: “Would it be absolutely the worst thing in the world to return a rescue puppy who has travelled thousands of miles”…. we warmed to our theme…..”desperately hoping for a new life with kind and caring owners who would overlook the complete destruction of their lives and home in a patient and understanding way?”

We decided it would be. Googled: “How long is a puppy awful for?” and asked everyone we knew how they coped. Obvously the only ones with anything useful to say were those with new puppies because established owners had long forgotten the hellish early days and could only offer very unhelpful statements ranging from: “Oh enjoy those first months they are so precious…”, to the frankly impossible: “We never had any problems with Rover, he was amazing from the start,” (then Rover is a Japanese Robot Dog my friend and not actually real.)

It. Is. Just. Like. Having. A. New. Baby. Only you can’t put nappies on a puppy. (No, you really can’t). And you get maternity leave to cope with the fact they need you every second of the day. (Well puppy doesn’t really need you. Actually she is at her happiest when left to destroy a room in peace, by herself, to thoroughly annihilate the irresistible knitting project you foolishly left within her surprisingly extensive reach.)

So here is some emergency Old Mum Wisdom for the horror of the first few days:

1: Clear away ANYTHING you value/might poison the puppy. (Nothing is off limits and they will ingest the most hideously dangerous stuff with great gusto should you leave it lying around. Don’t limit this to items above ground. Oh no. For days puppy was obsesed with one particular tiny corner of the garden, to the point of trying to sneak out at night to get to it. One unguarded millisecond and she was in: digging like a thing possessed in a spray of soils, she found her prize and gobbled it up in a panic as she saw us racing to the scene. A dollop of almost fully decayed cat poo. I know. And what an interesting contrast between the two species; cat neatly digs deep hole and disposes of waste considerately and hygienically. Dog pushes out dollops of ghastly stinking mess wherever it pleases. Usually by the back door or under your child’s football).

2: The ONLY way to get them off something they want to destroy, once it is in their razor sharp grip, is to offer something even better while squeaking in an excitable high voice about how exciting it is and how clever they are (even if you are completely furious with them).

3: Use the same ridiculous voice when they poo anywhere that is vaguely in the right direction of the garden and don’t bother with trails of puppy pads, towels, wet wipes, all your household linens – because they will bound over them and poo in the gap inbetween on the hardest-to-clean part of your floor/best rug.

4: Puppy cage. Controversial. You only need to start typing: P.U.P and C.A.G….and a million desperate voices will rise up from the internet on forums across the world, wailing about the guilt they feel, the cruelty, how can it be right to lock your darling in a cage (I will desist from reminding them where the chicken they just ate spent its days…sorry…) and yes, I was one of those voices.

Get a cage. A big one. With a nice bed * and toys etc. It took three days of guilt-ridden hell with a devastated puppy whimpering like a tortured maiden in a dungeon, before she sucked it up and decided she liked it quite a lot. (You leave the door open in the day time.) As an added bonus it’s the perfect place to hide from the established household cat, should you be unlucky enough to have that particular additional hassle to overcome… Even Scarface Claw (ours) respects cages….

5: Remember this, and I promise you this is true: it will get better pretty quickly and if you have a child, you will cope because you’ve done it all before. Dogs, thank the Lord, grow up a thousand times more quickly however and they are sort of sweet to have around as a pup. Very occasionally. And only when they are fast asleep.

∗Bloody dog beds. She chewed through three. I sewed them up as she tore them apart. Over and Over again. Trying to stuff saliva-sodden wadding into shredded fabric is a thankless and, I finally realised, pointless task. She now has an old blanket and Albie’s old Scout uniform fleece in there. It is perfect.