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Friends joke about Hershey being a substitute baby, but maybe they have a point. Ironically, given my qualms over parenthood, for months I felt and acted like a new mum. A book entitled Be The Pack Leader became my bible, the words of the Dog Whisperer became my mantra, and exhausted at the end of each day, I shoved Hershey into Ian's arms, snarling, "You take her." Baby teeth like ice picks sunk into my arms and my favourite J Brand jeans got torn. She resembled a mogwai from Gremlins: cute and cuddly on the outside but an absolute devil behind closed doors.

But Hershey soon matured into a gentle creature, demanding nothing but love. I discovered that three is company and am often surprised at how she has enriched my marital relationship. Weekends now revolve around long country walks and conversation over cosy pub lunches à trois.

Somehow, she has brought us even closer together. Like proud parents, we reminisce about the first time she swam, and her first encounter with snow. In her pure, unadulterated joy she didn't know whether to eat it or roll in it, so attempted an amusing eat-roll combo. We miss her when abroad and even FaceTime her (although she's not much of a conversationalist, admittedly).

It strikes me that there are advantages to having a dog rather than a baby. There's no painful labour to undergo, you can go on impulsive weekends away – reliable dog-sitter permitting – and you don't have to remortgage the house to educate, clothe and feed it.

There are health benefits too. I walk for two hours a day, feel fitter than ever and treasure the time spent outdoors. Owning a dog is also sociable. People – from toddlers to octogenarians – stop on the street to stroke Hershey and chat, and they love her at my regular, the Cat & Fiddle, so by default I've climbed a rung on the popularity ladder.

But there are downsides. Hershey scoffing a rack of lamb intended for supper at a dinner party springs to mind, plus the countless times I've stood outside, shivering, pleading with her to "go wee". Then there's the glaring fact that dogs pass away after 10 years or so, and won't care for you when you're old and grey like a son or daughter will.

Canine devotee that I am, I doubt any relationship with a pet could truly match the bond between parent and child. I've realised that the experience of "raising" Hershey has given me a taster of motherhood – of the responsibility and emotions involved. Clearing up after her, tending to her when she's unwell and guiding her to be a well-adjusted pup has taught me that I might just be more maternal than I initially thought.

Perhaps I'm not so averse to a new addition of the two-legged variety, after all. Don't write me off just yet, Mum.

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