I didn't want the dog in the first place. We had more than enough to do during the day without bringing extra work in on top of us.

The idea of having to clean up after the pup, of the barking, of the ruined furniture, of the vet's fees - it did not have any appeal.

So I said when we discussed it. My wife and kids ignored all I had to say and bought the beast the following day.

I consoled myself with the thought of hearing my voice many times in the future saying: "I told you so." I shook my head, knowing that within six months the dog would be sad and ancient history in our household.

What they came home with confirmed my worst fears. It was fat, wrinkled with a curled tail and a black pushed-in face: the ugliest thing I ever saw.

"What class of a dog is that?" I demanded to know. "A pug", they shouted.

I thought it looked more like a pig. The dog piddled. One look told me it would take a long time to become used to such a creature. An even longer time to be seen in public with it.

Useless as a watchdog, its purpose on earth, let alone in our house, baffled me.

The howling from downstairs during the first few nights did not endear me to the animal, nor did the newspapers on the kitchen floor. The house began to stink and hairs appeared over my suits. I decreed that the couch and chairs were for humans only. With my rolled up newspaper I scooted her off my personal favourite chair and affected a disgruntled air.

When I was around, Maggie - as she came to be called - would stare at me with big sad eyes from her dog bed. She waited for the slightest hint of affection so she could come bounding over to me.

She was barred from upstairs - the bedrooms were strictly off limits.

As the children continually smothered the dog with affection and my wife took care of all its needs, I was able to maintain a disdainful distance. A few weeks later my daughter took ill. Long days she spent at home, not able to do much of anything. Although my wife and I attended to her needs, other children and household duties took up a lot of our time. While she was lonely and isolated in her sick room, we allowed Maggie upstairs to cheer her up.

Big mistake. It opened floodgates for many subsequent excursions and nowadays Maggie is everywhere. She has the complete run of the house: at the door when anyone enters or leaves; on your lap as you sit down to watch television; under your feet at the table.

Some mornings I wake up to find her at the foot of our bed just watching and waiting for one word, a nod or a wink. Once her presence is acknowledged, it's all wags, licks and grunts as she's at your heels greeting the new day. She's happiest when surrounded by those she adores.

And one thing Maggie has that I don't: all the time in the world to give her undivided attention to anyone who wants it. What a wonderful addition to our family circle.

I'm only admitting to myself that the dog has won.