IT was when the dog was dragged out for her fourth walk of the day that she realised this lockdown business might not be all she had hoped.

When she saw her lead, a handful of biscuits and the inevitable plastic poop bag (the holy triumvirate of the dog walker) being shoved into my pocket she didn't leap up like a hungry hound that had just spotted a tray of sausages with an Eat Me sign attached. Rather, she eased herself up reluctantly. Stoically even, as if to say: If it will make you happy...

It was fun at the start for her having the whole family home. Lots of claps and treats. Watching them fall over each other, and those annoying cables they had attached to their computers, and their attempts to talk to those blurry little faces on their computer screens. Very important calls, they said. Hmm.

Anyway, out we go. Again. Me and the mutt. When you have five almost-adults at home, under instructions only to go out in twos for their state sanctioned one-hour walks, it adds up to a lot of running, jumping, sniffing and barking.

When we get there, Pollok Park is busy, with lots of dogs and lots of people. More than normal surely. Maybe people have misunderstood. Maybe they think the one-hour exercise thing is compulsory because I'm sure most of them don't do that much exercise normally, not to look at them anyway.

And what's with the walkers who have taken to wearing brightly-coloured sports leggings, fancy-dan trainers and tops made of the sort of technical material Edmund and Hillary could only have dreamed about for a stroll around the duck pond?

Then there's the joggers. For people obsessed with distances and miles, they don't seem to know what constitutes two metres. Even worse are those who run with their pooches attached to them by a harness. Not to put too fine a point on it but one of the joys of being a dog is sniffing – and you can't do that when you are attached to some wannabe Zola Budd.

At last, though, the ordeal is over and we return home to the crowded, noisy semi-workplace that used to be our sanctuary. And you know what? There's no space for the dog on the sofa. Not an inch. The whole thing is taken up with sprawling humans watching a TV show about mad Americans, murder plots and tigers. Big cats? Pah.

Now where is that lead?

Shops across Scotland are closing. Newspaper sales are falling. But we’ve chosen to keep our coverage of the coronavirus crisis free because it’s so important for the people of Scotland to stay informed during this difficult time.

However, producing The Herald's unrivalled analysis, insight and opinion on a daily basis still costs money, and we need your support to sustain our trusted, quality journalism.

To help us get through this, we’re asking readers to take a digital subscription to The Herald. You can sign up now for just £2 for two months.

If you choose to sign up, we’ll offer a faster loading, advert-light experience – and deliver a digital version of the print product to your device every day. Click here to support The Herald

Thank you, and stay safe.