Imagine the scenario, it's Christmas morning, eight inches of freshly laid snow on the ground, and it's darn cold out there. My owner, in his infinite wisdom seems to think that the best cure for that Christmas hangover is to take me out for a brisk walk. Well that may be fine for him, but I'm only a twelve inch tall Spaniel, and having my dangly bits plunged into three below zero isn't the most pleasant experience that springs to mind.

But whoa! Who's that? It's Max from over the road and I can only assume that his owner is also suffering, coz both us of out walking at stupid'o clock on Christmas day is far too much of a coincidence.

Now Max, the Chihuahua, who has a very inappropriate name, being that he's at least two inches shorter than me, isn't taking any chances this morning. Looks like his owner has bought him one of those trendy new small dog sweaters that everyone's raving about. And boy does it suit him. A Fair Isle sweater. A bit Christmassy for my liking, but nevertheless a Fair Isle sweater.

Now, I really must have one of them, especially now that them two have stopped to chat about last nights fancy dress party, and rigor mortis is beginning to set in around my nether regions. I'm gonna have to hatch a plan, and quick. Shiver maybe? No! Play dead? Er...Yeah, that's it, I'll play dead, that might get me some festive insulation.

Well, eventually we get home, and I hear him discussing with his missus, Max's small dog sweater, and how they think that, due to the Arctic weather conditions, maybe I should have one. Wow! My own Fair Isle.

Now, I think this is a bit of a girly thing coz she's straight on the interweb looking for a sweater for me, and before I could say "Barbara Woodhouse", she's found one big dog sweaters , The "Urban Trek". But hang on! After this mornings near death experience, I don't really relish the thought of trekking "urbanly" in conditions like this.

Then the flashback! Minus three outside, and me rapidly approaching absolute zero. But then I think of Max, and how he's snug as a bug in a rug in his new sweater. Ha ha, the days of me becoming a hypothermia victim may well be a thing of the past.

Right, let's look at the bottom line. This world wide net thingy is 24/7, so there's no waiting for the January sales for me. My sweater's on its way. It's ordered, paid for and all done and dusted, and delivery in just two days. That's only because there's no post on Boxing day. Just means I'm gonna have to make sure he doesn't over do the pop again, not at least until my dog sweater gets here.

So a few days go by and I get to stay in and keep warm, but I can't help noticing Max going out for a walk, in yet another small dog sweater. He must have one for every day of the week. Still, just the one will do me for now. I'm far more interested in keeping all my bits in working order at the moment, than turning into a babe magnet without any.

Postman's here! Don't think I'll savage his ankles today, I'll just go and give him a big sloppy kiss instead, to say thanks for my Christmas prezzy. Well, not exactly for my prezzy, but for getting it here on time. I'd better give them two a big smooch as well, seeing as they actually bought it for me.

Anyway, it fits perfect, and for the first time in ages, I really want to go out and see if I can glow like the kids in that ready-porridge advert. And yes, I am glowing. I'm not cold, and my dangly bits are safely tucked in. Am I impressed? I certainly am. I could do this all the time, and I look almost as trendy as Max. But I'm going to overheat in here when the snow melts? Wrong! I overheard them giggling about some more sweaters for me for the spring and summer, so I sense some lightweight ones may well be on the way. And you know, they're just like big kids. Anyone would think they were buying for a school disco.

Well that was about six months back and you want to see my wardrobe now. I've got more gear than London Fashion Week. Not just dog sweaters, but hoodies, T shirts, baseball caps, furry boots, you name it, I've got it. I've even got a pair of trainers and just watch me fly in them. All my health issues have gone out of the window, and I'm in "babe magnet" overdrive. And you have to check out my "Let's go to the park" outfit. Come Sundays I'm having to fight off these three cute... Er. No. Let's not go there. That's another story.