My dog is a wee bit rotund. Picture a large sausage with fur and legs.

At a recent vet visit, we were asked to put him on the scale. Doggy isn’t very tall but I took one end and my daughter took the other and we heaved. Doggy resisted. I felt his pain, as I myself have been known to panic and bolt at this point in the annual well-woman visit.

Breathing heavily, my seven-year-old said: “They need some kind of hoist thingy, mummy.”

“Do you give your dog table scraps?” the vet asked sternly.

“Uh, no,” I said.

After the vet visit, I took doggy to my mother’s house and he ran straight to the cat food and managed to down about half before I could grab it from him.

My mother grumbled: “I swear you don’t feed that dog.”

I said: “You’re right mom, he’s clearly starving. What gave it away? The large furry canine bottom, or the bulgy tummy?”

There are three reasons my dog is fat. The first is that he is insanely greedy. The second is that he is a very good actor. This dog should play Oliver Twist. Please sir ... And thirdly, my short-term memory is terrible.

Every morning at breakfast, doggy gives me the sad face and scratches at his dish. I fill the dish. He takes each morsel, individually, into the other room and chews on it. By the time he’s finished, I’ve moved on mentally.

He goes to the now empty dish and does the whole routine again. I look at him and think, “Didn’t I just feed you?” He gives me the saddest look, and I swear, shakes his head as if to say: “No, you didn’t. Would I lie?”

Feeling a strong sense of deja-vu, I get the dog food out. Then I move on with the morning routine. I step into the shower and pour soap on the cloth and begin to lather up.

I hear my daughter call out from the kitchen: “Mummy, the doggy looks hungry. Can I feed him?”

I pour soap on the cloth and begin to lather up.

“No I already fed him.”

I hear the clink of kibble hitting the dish. I pour soap on the cloth and begin to lather up.

Then my husband calls: “Honey, the dog looks hungry.”

“He’s not,” I call back. Again, I hear the clink of rattle of dog food. I reach for the soap.