Motherhood makes you develop skills you never thought you’d have.

Certainly, it’s done wonders for my coordination. I used to push my daughter in the pram in the park while walking the dog at the same time. Everything usually went fine unless he suddenly saw a chicken or a cat.

I was then torn in two — the dog pulling on one side, and the pram wobbling on the other. A steep incline was usually involved.

My mother once said to me, “If there was an emergency what would you do, save the dog or the child?”

This seemed grossly unfair. I’d try to save both of them, of course.

When I first brought my daughter home from the hospital my dog was ecstatic. “What have you brought home for me, a bunny, a kitten or a bacon sandwich?” his wagging tail asked. When she got bigger he took great delight in trying to get the socks off her feet as she crawled about. This amused her greatly.

As they’ve both gotten older, though, their relationship has become more that of rival siblings.

If I’m cuddling my daughter in the morning, the dog will come and wedge himself between us, cutting her off completely.

Sometimes, my daughter will lurk somewhere listening to me babbling baby talk at the dog. (Yes, I do this.)

“You love the dog more than me,” she sometimes accuses.

She has her little ways of getting back at him, like dressing him in my underwear.

He has his own little ways. Now he takes her socks and hides them in various dark corners of the house, or leaves her shoes out in the yard.

So now when I cuddle the dog I say things like: “You know, I love Girlie much more than I love you. You’re just a dog. She’s a human, way more important.” I say this in my “Who’s a good puppy?” voice, and I say it for her benefit. And it’s true.

The other day she intervened saying I was going to hurt his feelings, but she looked pleased. Doggy didn’t seem particularly bothered. He was snoring away, with his tongue hanging out, a little.

Diplomacy might be another skill you learn as a mother.