JARVIS has not just let me down, my brother down and the Teen down, but he has really let himself down.

My brother took him and his beloved Bulldog Marshie out for a summer stroll over the Bickerley while I was getting ready to go to a wedding reception.

Just as I was ramming the kitchen sink into my clutch bag, my brother returned to the house with the dogs, panting harder than his special needs Bulldog.

In one single breathless sentence he said: "There has been an event on the Bickerley, clearly with lots of refreshment stalls. People were packing up and Jarvis ran off. I couldn't find him but after what seemed like ages I saw his stupid tail waving about in the catering tent. When I reached it I found Jarvis's head in a bucket. Now he's been terribly sick. He wouldn't listen to me, he wouldn't come to me when I called, he was a nightmare."

Jarvis just looked at me when my brother had finished his rant and he skulked off under the pew, probably to have a stern word with himself.

Poor Jarvie.

"What on earth was in the bucket?"

"I don't know but it looked like chip fat or slops of some kind. Jarvis wouldn't leave it alone, he was like a dog possessed."

"Bah. Now I don't know whether to go to this wedding or not."

"Just go I will clear up any mess if he makes any."

My thoughts of Jarvis faded after spending a few hours dressed in silk in sumptuous surroundings with my closest friends in the beautiful Wiltshire countryside.

But then I arrived home. I was met by a terrible smell of greasy chip fat and my brother up to his arms in bleach waving the mop about.

"I think you need to put on your old clothes Karen. Jarvis has been terribly sick."

And so I transformed once more from princess to pauper while I grabbed the other bucket and helped my brother.

Jarvis raised his furry eyebrows, sighed and dozed off.

The pantomime went on all night. In the morning Jarvis wasn't faring much better so in desperation of not wanting to spend the whole day cleaning, I rang the vet who told me to bring him in.

I won't go into details, but by the time I had reached canine casualty, my car was full of rancid chip fat.

I left the vet alone because Jarvis was admitted into the hospital for the day to the tune of £300 (well at least I didn't have to do anymore cleaning).

"Jarvis is the second Labrador that I have admitted this morning because of eating things they shouldn't," said the vet. "It's their nature. I doubt very much that this will be the last."

I took the car to the cleaners.

I picked the boy up last night. I paid the bill today.

Jarvis has taken me to the cleaners.

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