This alpha female needs to learn to take the lead

IF a springer spaniel runs at you full tilt barking its head off, you think, awww look, the doggie wants to play.

If a Rottweiler does the same thing, your life flashes before your eyes.

Unfortunately, my doggie is not a spaniel. “It’s okay!” I shout over her baritone barking. “She’s friendly!” But by then the object of her interest is either (a) climbing the nearest tree (b) texting their last will and testament to their solicitor or (c) shouting at me for having a large dog that runs up to people barking.

I find myself spending considerable chunks of our dog walks apologising, as the other dog — a very polite German Shepherd — looks on bemused.

Although the Rottweiler is incredibly soppy and loves nothing more than lying on her back with her paws in the air being cuddled by small children at home, she has started to realise that when we are out on dog walks, I am afraid.

I am afraid that she will run up to someone barking, and the person will then shout at me because she isn’t a spaniel and their life has just flashed before their eyes, but the dog doesn’t realise that this is where my fear comes from.

No. She thinks that all the people we encounter when we are out walking is what makes me afraid, and as a noble dog who wants to protect her beloved human, she has taken it upon herself to run up to people barking. What she is saying is, “Don’t come any nearer, you are frightening my human.” What they are thinking is, “Oh my God I am going to be eaten by a Rottweiler.”

Obviously, none of this is very relaxing for anyone. Keeping her on the lead would only work if she were a chihuahua — big dogs need proper exercise. So someone recommends a (barely) affordable dog behaviourist. We have tea in the kitchen as the dogs lie all over the kitchen floor. When I stand up to make more tea, I step over the snoozing Rottweiler. “No no no,” says the dog behaviourist. “Don’t step over her. She has to leap out of your way. You are the alpha of the pack.” Oh right. The alpha.

We leave to go for a dog walk, the dogs shoving through the door before me. “No no no,” says the dog behaviourist, “You first. Remember. You are the alpha.”

On the walk, the Rottweiler behaves like a submissive Labrador all the way, despite encountering all the things that usually set her off in a barking frenzy: walkers, runners, joggers, men, cyclists, horse riders, anyone wearing yellow. She trots along immaculately, tail down, nose to the ground.

“What a lovely dog,” says the dog behviourist, pocketing her cash and driving off. The next day the Rottweiler ups her game, and I get extra shouted at. The dog licks me protectively. Don’t worry, says the speech bubble over her head. I’ll protect you. I’m the alpha.