We need to talk about...Walle

We need to talk about... not Kevin, but Walle (pronounced Wall-ee). No, no: my newly adopted three-year-old labradoodle is not wreaking any kind of havoc reminiscent of that other nasty fellow. Quite the opposite, in fact. The only thing other than his toys that Walle has ever tried to destroy by chewing is the old sheepskin I put down for him alongside my bed. And that being something very like rawhide, it's probably not too surprising.

It's not as if Walle hasn't got a perfectly good bed of his own. But that's in the living-room, where he could easily choose to sleep, and does when we are all in there. But there's no room for that big bed in my bedroom. And Walle always sleeps wherever I sleep – or nearby. He's not allowed on beds or chairs, and knows that. But wherever I sit, work or sleep – that's where you'll find Walle. At the mistress's feet, so to speak. Right now, as you can see, he's lying right here behind me, his morning walk over, a couple of chicken necks quickly gobbled and nothing better to do than snooze.

Walle has become more self-confident as the weeks go by. He doesn't (always) lie outside the bathroom while I shower. And if I tell him to 'Go' when I'm working in the kitchen, he will reluctantly trot off to his bed in the living-room. Otherwise, he lies at the very edge of the carpet that marks the division between dining area and kitchen, where he (usually) knows he's not allowed to enter. Two front paws might stray over the carpet's edge onto the kitchen tiles, but that's all. And he watches. I never feed him anything while I'm working in the kitchen, so he can't be expecting scraps. He's just...watching...ME.

At least now, when we've gone to bed, Walle no longer gets up just because I make a quick toilet visit or a trip to the kitchen for water. He does always come along when I check on Allen, though. He'll stick his snout up near Allen's pillow for a quick pet, or a surreptitious lick. But other than that, he's quite content once he's settled down alongside my bed for the night. And I've learned not to step on him as I get up for any reason.

Outdoors in our one-acre paddock that's fenced on three sides only – the fourth boundary being the big old farm dam – Walle generally runs free. Exuberance did once cause him to spring off down the valley, following the creek below the dam's overflow.That creek bed marks the property line between neighbours' acreage on both sides. It was a harmless enough adventure, with me in pursuit through long grasses on both sides of the creek bed. But some deep instinct had taken hold of him, and I couldn't help but laugh as his rear legs flew high, water splashing as he landed in the nearly dry creek's puddles. He slept very well that night, feet still twitching in those strange dreams dogs have, accompanied by little half-barks of delight.

And on one other occasion, while friends were helping unload compost onto plants that border a camping area at the bottom of our paddock, I looked up just in time to see Walle take off, ears horizontal, in pursuit of a big monitor lizard he'd found sunning itself in the grass by the dam's edge. The lizard executed a neat dive into the dam, and in plopped Walle right behind. He'd no chance of catching the lizard, of course. But still Walle plodded around among the water lilies, churning up mud and coming out a new shade of brown. I'm not a great believer in washing dogs too often, but no way could Walle come into the living-room without a hosing down on that day. At least he'd recently been shorn, making the clean-up a bit easier.

The only thing Walle asks from us – other than food and water – is to let him be with us. Preferably 24 hours a day, but if we need to be away for a few hours or half a day, he will tolerate that. Nothing gets chewed and there are no wrinkles to suggest he's taken advantage of our absence to sprawl across a bed or sofa. He is, of course, deliriously happy when we get home. But that kind of effusive love is little enough price to pay for such total devotion. And at the least suggestion that he might be allowed to come with us on some outing, wild horses couldn't keep him from hopping into the car.

When Walle first came home with me seven weeks ago, I thought his extreme devotion would be temporary. It worried me then, so the breeder gave me an article about 'separation anxiety' and I followed its recommendations. But now, even though Walle has settled happily into his new home, I know his 'attachment' to me is permanent. He's a one-woman dog. And though it took some getting used to – a bit like having a toddler follow you around – I'm not only resigned to it, I love it. I even think Walle knew I needed this unconditional love and affection, knew that his main job with us would be to care for the carer.