I have a gorgeous little border terrier called Angus, whom I love dearly. I also have a big garden with trees and shrubs and fences to other big gardens with bigger trees and shrubs. This time of year we get hedgehogs.

Angus hates hedgehogs.

Who could believe this cute little pooch is a psycho killing mayhem machine? Well, me actually. When it comes to attack-mode, he’s got form.

It’s in his nature, he’s bred to fight and kill vermin, and I can’t get angry with him for being true to his nature. Every night I have to go out and shine a torch around the garden to make sure there are no ‘hogs wandering about, then I can safely let him out for a wanfer. But tonight he found one at the back of the shed.

So now I have an injured hedgehog in my garage, lying on a blanket in a shoebox with a bowl of water beside him.I’ve contacted three hedgehog/animal charities and am hoping one will get back to me, though I suspect the little ‘hog will manage, one way or the other.

Angus is very sheepish, he knows he’s not in the good books, so hes gone to bed.