Firstly it was the love of a tiny dog, then the love of music, then the love of a man.

Tired of the dating scene, I finally decided it was high time to get a dog. One jumped out at me from the proverbial glass window of the local pet shop. I know now that adopting is always better, but, well, I have absolutely no excuses to give. She was my dog. We just clicked straight away, and the rest is history.

Three months later, I decided to go to a songwriting night to perform my own original music. I nearly chickened out, I was so scared of sharing my songs with the public. At a tiny Thai cafe around the corner, I thought “I can’t do this!”  The toxic voice of my ex kept coming into my thoughts, drowning all else out. ‘They are just no good’ and ‘I don’t like them’ were his thoughts regarding my originals. If I wasn’t like Brittany Spears in looks and popularity, then my efforts just would not fly. If they didn’t sell, they didn’t count.

Stuff you.

And with that thought, I collected up my keyboard and off I headed up the hill in the direction of the songwriting night.

My hands trembled and my voice quavered as I got set up to perform my originals. Performing covers was easy. I had worked professionally performing covers. This was personal. These songs were personal. Did I really want to go airing my laundry in public.

Why the hell not?

And then I saw a friendly face in the crowd. I knew him from twelve years ago. We had met, briefly back then, and we had clicked.

I played my originals, and they were met with rapturous applause.

We got on like a house on fire. He loved my songs. We loved each others songs. We talked, and talked, and talked. He came out to my car at the end of my set, and helped me pack away my keyboard.

We met up again, and my little dog loved him. We became a little trio, a family.

And the rest, they say, is history. But not history as in dead romance. Ongoing, living, beautiful history.

And I wrote, recorded and made a music video of this original, about meeting my little dog and then my man. It is not a million-seller and I am not Brittany Spears, nor do I want to be, as I am a different species to her.