'There was nothing Daisy could not consume with no repercussions other than human rage': Meet the dogs who really run Country Life

Charlie the smooth black-and-tan dachshund

Charlie — aka King Charles or HRH — is an extra-large dachshund with an extra-large personality and appetite. He is most likely to be found stretched out in a patch of sunshine or occupying the exact chair you vacated three seconds earlier, preferably while it’s still warm.

His greatest talent is interior design: using his remarkably strong snout to rearrange chairs into strategic positions from which otherwise inaccessible food can be reached. This ingenuity once resulted in the consumption of an entire packet of Marks and Spencer's Outrageously Chocolatey Dark Chocolate Rounds and a frantic Friday night trip to the emergency vet. He has taught me many things, but vigilance is chief among them.

Despite being permanently starved — according to Charlie, not his vet — he is outrageously cuddly. His most prized possession is Stanley, our tiny, blind and deaf 14-year-old dachshund, whom he absolutely adores. Life, according to Charlie, would be perfect if I were more generous with snacks and stopped mentioning the word ‘diet’.

Florence Allen

Zippy the Australian kelpie

Despite her breed’s reputation as Australia’s most dependable sheepdog, my 13-year-old kelpie is inexplicably terrified of sheep and cows. She will swim across fast-flowing rivers or commando-crawl through hedges to avoid crossing paths with them.

Her favourite game involves stealing golf balls in play from the course near the beach in Devon and racing off towards the water with them in her mouth. She's always utterly baffled when the golfers don’t cry out with delight and join in.

Her most impressive talent is her ability to escape. She once jumped a five-foot fence in order to embark on an adventure aboard a longboat down the River Thames. What has my dog taught me? That not all dogs calm down with age.

Even when we're nowhere near a beach, Zippy will somehow find one. Despite her escape artist antics, she is utterly irresistible (except, perhaps, her breath). She only wishes I took sticks as seriously as she does.

Bella Fulford

Dominic the cocker pug

When Dominic was a (long-legged) puppy, and to some extent even now, he totally destroyed anything he could get his teeth and paws on.

We previously had a homely, ie untidy, farmhouse kitchen, but today it is minimalist due to Dom. Some of his 'activities' have included eating everything in the fruit bowl, including bananas in their skins, ripping the blinds (now there are none), chewing a hand off the clock despite it being hung high on the wall, pulling the air fryer off the surface and completely separating the electric plug from the wire once it was on the floor, plus grabbing milk bottles in his mouth (the ones that were soaking in the sink to be washed later) and jumping down and smashing them on the floor.

He's more recently taken to jumping off the (high) garden wall and out into the road. He'll then do a 'circuit' around the road and jump the five-bar gate back into the yard where he is 'secure' again — until the next time. His favourite day to do this is Monday because this is recycling day.

His most prized possession is his bed (he can't, of course, have a lovely fluffy bed or he would eat it). He sleeps in his crate with a blanket and because he's so frenetic during the day by 10.30pm he's so ready for bed he can't wait to get there. He sleeps like the living dead.

In the last few months he's become slightly less naughty and extremely appealing. He has the most gorgeous face, and he's soft and squishy and wouldn't hurt a fly (although he loves chasing my six cats). He's also highly intelligent and knows instantly when he's done something naughty. We don't even need to tell him.

Julie Harding

Chequers the Jack Russell

Chequers can do plant recognition. If he sees nettles or thistles or gorse from several paces ahead, there is no way he will proceed without being picked up. He can also detect a hedgehog through 18-inch-thick walls and shut windows.

He once killed an enormous rat. I was worried he would let it go and was rushing around after him, swearing and wielding a shovel, but he despatched it and then did a victory lap of honour around the garden. Because of him, I've learned to run ever faster.

He's most likely to be found watching the BBC News at Ten. He takes it very seriously and likes the racing and tennis as well.

I love his long nose (like Beatrix Potter's Pickles) and short legs, his markings (especially the spot by his tail) and his way of snuggling up under your arm. He can pay a visitor no greater compliment than to fall sound asleep on them.

Kate Green

Dolly Parton the (suspected) kokoni

I knew Dolly was mine the moment I saw her little clown face peeking out at me from the social media account of a respected animal-rescue charity in Romania, after I had been considering dog ownership for some months.

I had always said that my first dog would be called Dolly Parton; this one was already christened Dolly. It was meant to be. 'That dog is far too ugly to be named after Dolly Parton,' offered a friend, clearly unaware that one must never say this about someone's baby (to their face).

The dog who had lived off Romanian street rubbish and arrived so hungry she once swallowed a rat whole soon settled in beneath my desk at the Country Life offices and learnt that she was now too good for dry dog biscuit. A saint with children, but a devil on the lead, I will never have another dog as devoted to me as this one.

Victoria Marston

Nimrod and Rocky the black and yellow labradors

My partners in canine crime are Nimrod, an eight-year-old black labrador, and Rocky, a four-year-old yellow labrador. Although they’re both (allegedly) working dogs, who excel (ahem, are you listening, Nim?) in the shooting field — in truth, they are pets, sofa slugs and my most treasured companions.

They follow in the pawprints of fellow black labs, Boot, Dinky and Sock, and I’d be utterly lost without them. Nimmy specialises in stealing the toys belonging to our neighbours’ obliging sprocker, Wilson — his favourite is a fluffy capybara, which he will only retrieve to hand in return for a spoonful of Greek yoghurt. Rocky, meanwhile, has 37 field-trial champions in his pedigree and will actually give you the game bird you asked him to fetch without demanding a snack tax.

Despite being rather too officious about border patrol around my cottage — the postman gets shouted at every time he approaches — both are first-class cuddlers and emotional-support operatives. If they could, they’d abolish my job so that, at 4pm, they would not have to stare so intently, willing me to step away from the laptop to feed them. As I constantly remind them, however, one of us has to work if we’re to afford their twice-daily equivalent of Cheerios.

Paula Minchin

Daisy the working cocker spaniel

Daisy is an expert thief and often works as a tag team with Ernie the cat who will bat items off the kitchen table with his paw and then jump down before Daisy has golloped up all the spilt milk/ham/toast etc.

When young there was nothing Daisy could not consume with no repercussions other than human rage — an entire pat of French butter; an almost full packet of chocolate bourbons, a dish of lasagne from the cafe opposite and, over the years, numerous slices of Colin the Caterpillar birthday cake.

She got her comeuppance though when she swallowed a packet of rat poison. The vet nobly left off watching the Rugby World Cup final to administer an emetic and when we picked up her from the surgery declared her to be the most stupid dog he had ever treated because she wagged her tail throughout the procedure. But then she did win a red rosette in the village fête Waggiest Tailed Dog competition.

Tiffany Daneff

Patzy the Patterjack

Patzy didn't have the best start in life. She was abused (the vet thinks she's blind in one eye because she was kicked in the head) and abandoned, went on the run for three weeks, and is fearful of most men, especially if they're wearing big boots.

Despite being dealt a very bad hand, her most endearing quality is her determination to try and make the most of every day. She's now 14 (probably), but still gets the daily zoomies and likes to help with most activities (at the moment it's putting out buckets of water for wild animals; she's also partial to a yoga class). In recent years she's even warmed to strangers and, as long as things progress on her terms, will use their legs as a scratching post.

Her favourite thing in the entire world is my parent's bed (she's evicted my dad from it — he has to sleep in the guest bedroom) and running water. She will happily wreck a perfectly good hose and turn it into a sieve, or stand in a stream for hours and hours and bite at the water in a vain attempt to stop it — sort of like King Canute and his waves. How she hasn't waterboarded herself is beyond me.

Rosie Paterson