Boxing day was actually dry, so Dave and I, our son George and the dogs, Swingle and Dizzy took ourselves off for a walk at the Dare Country Park in nearby Aberdare. We parked in the town and walked up the old railway line to the park and had a pleasant stroll around the lakes and streams then came back.

As many of you know, Swingle’s middle name is dustbin and this has got her into many scrapes and trips to the vets over the years. She still hasn’t learnt cause and effect at nine and never will.

As we got in the car, she was missing, so I yelled and she re-appeared, to jump into the car and belch. It stank the car out as it was clearly poo – yes, really. She literally wasn’t flavour of the month and we were all glad when once home, she went off for her post walk snooze.

A couple of hours later, she came downstairs, and swaggered into the sitting room, and began to wobble in the most odd way and was clearly not focused. My immediate reaction was that she had been poisoned, so after several calls to the vets, it was off to Treforest to have her checked out.

On telling the Vet the tale, she said she didn’t think it was poison, but needed a wee sample. I spent half an hour walking around the car park with a wobbly, unfocused dog, who dragged her claws the whole time. No luck we sat and waited for the vet, and as Swingle sat, she peed. The vet took a sample.

‘I’m afraid your dog has ingested marijuana and cocaine,’ she spluttered with laughter, ‘she’s stoned.’

So after paying a large bill and clutching bottles of charcoal to help absorb the drugs, we dragged my hippie dog home, there was nothing to be done but let her sleep it off. She spent a lot of time that evening watching things walk around the room that we couldn’t see. The next morning she was fine.

George did suggest we go back to the carpark and see if there was a stash there, but I didn’t fancy it. Swingle is now officailly a drug  dog, but for all the wrong reasons.