Four enormous dogs, one suspicious vegetarian and a security guard called Kevin.

After a bit of negotiation, I finally managed to pin down my brother Chris.

This is not quite as straightforward as you might imagine.

You see, Chris has a very busy social calendar involving golf, his girlfriend and presumably the occasional opportunity to go home and feed the dogs.

Eventually, we managed to find a gap in his hectic schedule and agreed on a time for me to visit.

Off I went to his house.

A big white detached place with plenty of parking.

Very nice.

I walked up to the front door and knocked.

And then something rather strange happened.

My dad answered the door.

Which was quite a shock, considering Dad died 17 years ago.

Obviously, it wasn’t Dad.

It was Chris.

But bloody hell, the resemblance!

There he was, standing in front of me, looking increasingly like our father.

Chris is seven years younger than me, so naturally we had to spend a little time discussing who looks like whom these days.

It’s a strange thing, getting older and suddenly seeing your parents looking back at you from your siblings.

Anyway, having established that neither of us was getting any younger, it was time for the main event.

Dancing with Lions.

Welcome to Jurassic Bark

Now, my brother has four dogs.

Not four little dogs.

Not four medium-sized dogs.

Four Dogues de Bordeaux.

If you’re not familiar with the breed, imagine a mastiff that’s been crossed with a small rhinoceros.

Then give it the head of a lion.

And an enormous mouth.

Chris has four of them.

Ellie, Martin, Bruce and Kevin.

Yes.

Kevin.

More about Kevin shortly.

Entering Chris’s house is rather like visiting a wildlife park, except there are no safety barriers and the lions appear to own the furniture.

Fortunately, two of them are perfectly delightful.

Ellie and Martin.

Both very approachable, very friendly and quite happy to receive enormous amounts of fuss and attention.

Martin, in particular, is so laid-back that you do begin to wonder whether he’s entirely aware of what’s going on around him.

I’m fairly certain that if a burglar walked through the front door, Martin would simply roll over and ask for his tummy to be rubbed.

Possibly offer him a cup of tea.

Ellie was equally lovely.

Lots of cuddles.

Lots of fuss.

All going very well.

Then there was Bruce.

Bruce is absolutely enormous.

The sort of dog that makes you wonder whether somebody has accidentally brought a small horse indoors.

But Bruce turned out to be completely relaxed about my presence.

Not particularly interested.

Not particularly bothered.

Just Bruce.

Fair enough.

Three out of four.

Excellent result.

And then…

There was Kevin.

Kevin Is Kevin

I have never seen a dog quite like Kevin.

Well, not outside a lion enclosure.

He’s enormous.

Absolutely enormous.

And he has a roar to match.

Unfortunately, Kevin had apparently received intelligence that a suspicious woman had arrived at the property.

Possibly a burglar.

Possibly an international criminal.

Possibly somebody who had come to steal the furniture.

Whatever the threat, Kevin was taking absolutely no chances.

He made his feelings very clear.

ROOOOOOOAAAAARRRRR!

Bloody hell.

I don’t think I’ve ever been quite so thoroughly informed that my presence was under review.

Now, I’ve owned and trained large dogs for years, Rottweilers actually, and I’m generally very comfortable around them.

But I also believe in respecting a dog’s boundaries.

And Kevin’s boundaries appeared to extend to approximately the entire county of Hampshire.

So I made a sensible executive decision.

Kevin and I would agree to disagree.

He could continue guarding his territory.

I would continue enjoying my visit.

Preferably from somewhere outside his immediate jurisdiction.

It seemed a perfectly reasonable arrangement.

Kevin was not entirely convinced.

But then Kevin is Kevin.

The Great Quorn Experiment

Meanwhile, I was getting on famously with Martin and Ellie.

Lots of cuddles.

Lots of attention.

Lovely dogs.

And then I decided to conduct a small experiment.

I’d brought some Quorn slices with me.

For anyone unfamiliar with Quorn, it’s a vegetarian meat substitute.

Now, dogs are generally enthusiastic about food.

Particularly large dogs.

And these are very large dogs.

So I thought I’d offer Martin and Ellie a little taste.

Rejected.

Both of them.

Not interested.

Apparently, my perfectly acceptable vegetarian food failed to meet the standards of the household carnivores.

I was rather offended.

I mean, I eat this stuff!

And here were two enormous dogs looking at it as though I’d offered them a piece of old carpet.

This raises some important questions.

What exactly do they know about Quorn that I don’t?

Should I be concerned?

Do I need to undertake further research into the nutritional benefits of my lunch?

They do say dogs are excellent judges of character.

Apparently they’re also food critics.

And these two had awarded my Quorn slices approximately zero stars.

I suspect Kevin would have had even stronger opinions.

Although I wasn’t about to ask him.

Four Very Different Personalities

The thing that amused me most was how different all four dogs were.

Ellie was lovely and affectionate.

Martin was so chilled that I suspect you could hold a brass band rehearsal beside him and he’d barely open an eye.

Bruce was enormous but completely unbothered by my existence.

And Kevin…

Well.

Kevin remained Kevin.

Head of Security.

Chief of Immigration.

Border Control.

And possibly the entire Armed Forces.

All rolled into one enormous, roaring Dogue de Bordeaux.

I think it’s fair to say I hadn’t passed his background checks.

Perhaps next time I’ll submit my passport details in advance.

Or apply for a visitor’s permit.

A Family Resemblance

It was lovely to see Chris again.

Even if I did spend the first few moments wondering why our father had answered the door.

There’s something quite funny about seeing how family resemblances become more obvious as we get older.

And something rather strange about looking at your younger brother and seeing somebody who has been gone for so many years.

But that’s family, isn’t it?

A mixture of familiar faces, old memories and the occasional unexpected moment.

And in Chris’s case, four enormous dogs.

I left having thoroughly enjoyed my cuddles with Ellie and Martin, established a perfectly satisfactory understanding with Bruce, and reached a diplomatic agreement with Kevin.

He doesn’t eat me.

I don’t enter his territory.

Everybody wins.

Although I am now slightly concerned about my Quorn slices.

If two enormous dogs won’t touch them, perhaps I should reconsider my lunch.

And as for Kevin?

I’m sure he’s a perfectly lovely dog.

I just think he’d prefer to admire me from a considerable distance.

Preferably another postcode.