I am the proud father of a little boy called Rocky; he's loving and docile, pretty fucking lazy yet always eager to play with all the other boys and girls. Yet bizarrely all we get is dirty looks, people running away from him and snidely sneering at him as we walk proudly with our baby.

Okay so you've probably worked out by the title that our baby boy is a dog, but that's exactly how we see him, as our baby. When the missus originally picked him from the pet shop we had already decided to let the dog pick us, I don't agree that a dog should be picked based on merit and breed. A dog should always choose his own owners in order for the all important bond to be formed.

As we walked through the Perspex animal prison we saw many many sad wet nosed faces, every one of them deserving a better form of life and needing a future of love and loyalty. If we had the space and money we would have bought them all without question, well Sarah would have anyway.

As I stood exchanging pleasantries with a Grey Parrot that had a better grasp of the queens English than my alcoholic brother, the choice was made. I looked round and there stood Sarah, up against the clear plastic wall with a little black fur ball up on the Perspex wooing his new mum. Our new baby had chosen his mum while all the others slept, played and dismissed her as just another face like the many others they had seen before.

Sarah was now in love with the "baby boy" that would change our lives for the better, yet at the same time tip our routines on their head in spectacular puppy fashion. I walked over to the crude plastic container that imprisoned our boy wondering what breed it was, determined that it didn't really matter as long as Sarah was happy... Poodle? Pomeranian? Cocker Spaniel? Chow Chow? Chihuahua? All very common choices amongst the girls and suddenly I began to get nervous at the idea of having to walk a dog in pink bows and glittery bling collars.

As I saw the little black fur ball it dawned on me in true Sarah fashion that she was about to blow my expectations clean out of the water... and I saw our boy for the first time up close... and I nearly shit in my boxers.

It was a damn Rottweiler! I knew from that moment I was gonna be in big trouble, it was a puppy now but these things grow up big, fucking nasty and with more teeth than the entire Osmond family. I was more scared of Sarah's mum than anything else, I had just single handily been accomplice to the complete devastation of the perfect home that her mum was rightly proud of.

It's been eighteen months now and Rocky has grown into the most loving, loyal and perfect friend that Sarah has ever had. The two of them go absolutely everywhere together and she has not once slacked off from her responsibility as a "mother" and I'm very proud of both Sarah and her mum of the job they have done on bringing up such a potentially lethal killing machine.

The one thing we didn’t expect would be narrow small mindedness of the public, people literally cross the road to avoid Rocky. To me that’s a blessing in disguise because you all know I can't stand sharing pavement with people I don't know... but Sarah? She takes it very personally and gets upset every time it happens... and it happens alot!

Today for example we were at Canvey Island for the day, soaking up the sun, sand, sea and pollution on a nasty summers day. Rocky was just being himself and being very vocal (he barks at people to say hello believe it or not) and this totally fat fuck that looked like he has had sausage and mash for breakfast everyday since birth took offense. Sarah got upset and walked somewhere else taking Rocky with her. Now Sarah never tells me when someone has started for the reason being I tend to get a bit flustered and say something, which in turn normally turns into DIY tooth extraction... hence the secrecy... but why get offended? It's not our fault he's bitter at that fact that he's never seen his own cock sinse puberty and his missus has a face like slate layers tool bag... fuck off!

Having Rocky has made me realise one thing, to pigeon hole a dog based on breed is in fact just as racially wrong as assuming that a black man will steal your stereo, an Irishman is automatically stupid or that all Welshman shag sheep. Okay so all the French are still selfish stuck up arrogant cunts but lets face it, they always will be. But I for one am proud of our baby boy and couldn’t give a shit in a wind tunnel at who’s scared or who’s offended by him, he’s our baby boy Rottweiler or not. And here’s a message for those ignorant shits that are scared and offended by him… if you see us coming, don’t expect us to move… if you don’t want to come near our boy… then cross the road and look both ways… because we couldn’t really give a shit!