Freddie Dennis Mercury was born on 1 April 2019, and from the very beginning, he was destined to be rather special.
I'd always wanted a dog like Freddie, and when a friend shared photographs of a litter of puppies, I knew I wanted him before I'd even met him.
When we arrived to see the puppies, the others were playing at the far end of the field. But Freddie came running over to greet us, as though he'd already made his decision.
I like to think he chose us.
Freddie was named after the legendary singer Freddie Mercury because of his distinctive little overbite. We thought the name suited him perfectly, so we kept it. His middle name, Dennis, is also a tribute to my dad, who passed away just two weeks after Freddie came into my life.
Ever since, Freddie has been my devoted shadow.
He follows me everywhere, knows when I'm about to go out before I do, and considers it his personal responsibility to supervise my every movement.
He's also convinced that my attention should be devoted entirely to him.
Freddie gets on wonderfully with our cats, particularly Morsey and Tabitha, and will happily curl up beside them on the bed. He adores Poppy too, although sharing my attention with any of them is another matter entirely.
Even telephone conversations aren't exempt. He'll appear beside my shoulder, demanding a cuddle, just in case I've forgotten he's there.
And then there's his rather questionable approach to other people's property.
Despite having a toy basket overflowing with his own belongings, Freddie regularly conducts secret missions into Poppy's territory, helping himself to her toys and quietly transporting them upstairs to add to his personal collection.
One particular black ball, originally discovered on the playing field, has become the subject of a long-running ownership dispute.
Poppy considers it hers. Freddie apparently considers that a minor administrative detail.
Walks are another interesting department.
Freddie gets tremendously excited at the prospect of an outing, only to spend the first ten minutes loudly announcing his presence to every other dog before deciding he's had quite enough and would like to go home.
Thankfully, Freddie is much better behaved at his regular grooming appointments, where Lauren assures me he's a very good boy.
Bath time is also perfectly acceptable, provided he's allowed to finish the drying process by enthusiastically rubbing himself all over my duvet.
According to my daughter Charlotte, Freddie is thoroughly spoilt and has effectively become the third child. I couldn't possibly comment.
Although the evidence is becoming increasingly difficult to dispute.
Despite his rather demanding approach to personal attention and his occasional unauthorised acquisitions, Freddie is an affectionate, happy little character who brings enormous joy to my life.
And while he may officially be Head of Personal Security, I suspect his real job description is much simpler.
Making absolutely certain that wherever I go, he goes too!