Whoever claimed that 'You can't teach an old dog new tricks' clearly hadn't met a border collie. Dog keeps adding to her repertoire of ways to obtain dog biscuits. Her latest wheeze has been learned courtesy of a neighbour, Helen.

Dog and I invariably meet Helen and her black labrador on a footpath that has shrunk to a quarter of its winter size, thanks to a lush bank of stinging nettles on one side and a sea of cow parsley on the other. Add the fact that Dog hates getting wet feet and she will stick doggedly to the six-inch wide groove in the centre of the footpath, irrespective of oncoming people.

So when she met Helen, she stopped and looked up at her with a "Get out of my way" look on her face. Helen didn't realise this. She thought Dog was being angelic. (She really should know better by now.) So she rewarded Dog with a biscuit from a bum bag strapped around her waist. Dog thought highly of this gesture, so much so that when Helen had passed us, Dog refused to budge in case Helen's black lab got any funny ideas about going after his own biscuit supply. I had to lift her off the path so that he could rush past, eyes averted, with a pair of snapping jaws inches from his backside.

But that wasn't enough mayhem for Dog. The next person we encountered was a runner. Dog's eyesight isn't what it once was and evidently she mistook his micro black shorts for a bum bag. So she rushed towards him, and plonked herself down in his path with the aforesaid 'angelic' look. Causing him to screech to a halt.

He didn't look very happy - and I couldn't blame him. So I smiled sweetly and said "Sorry - but she is after your sweeties'. I can't describe the look on his face. But mine became a brilliant shade of red when it dawned on me that he might have construed that as a euphemism.