I can think back to a time when, as a teen, I watched a mother cut up a hot dog for her 13 year old daughter and thought to myself, "lord woman, let the poor girl be and stop babying her!" I couldn’t help but stare incredulously at this woman who was so clearly stunting her daughter’s inevitable transition from dependent child into adulthood. This sort of behaviour was clearly for the mother’s sake, and not for the benefit of the child. Oh, how my critical assumptions have come back to bite me in the behind.

You see, over the past nine years with Roxy, I have transformed into one of these domineering parents I so callously judged. Before you inundate me with well deserved jeers of "I told you sos", consider this – my dog Roxy is truly an enigma. While roaming the great outdoors she is confident, adventurous and brave despite her disability. Yet, when it comes to a trivial thing like eating from a noisy ceramic dog dish, she becomes immobilized with fear. It has now escalated to the point where she’s lost weight (admittedly not the worst thing that could happen to her) as a result of her refusal to eat out of her bowl. And so, like many overbearing mothers before me, I’ve opted to cater to my dog’s neuroses and now feed her directly from the floor. I’d like to say that this symbol of surrender embarrasses and humiliates me, but on the contrary; I am proud to do whatever it takes to make my dogs happy (except letting them eat at the table, that’s too far). Although I’m not at the point of hand feeding individual pieces of kibble to my dog, I’m not far from it, am I?