What? Summer? Here already? How on earth can you tell? Hang on... I know. By all the shark-sighting hoaxes, that’s how.

Right: I don’t know if any of you have ever stopped to think about this, but I have, and... well... can anyone explain to me why nobody ever sights a Great White Shark (still less takes photos of one off the coast of Gozo, and then circulates them via e-mail) in the middle of January? No, of course not. What would be the point in that? They have to wait until the start of July, when our beaches and seas are invaded by hordes upon hordes of sun-worshipping beach-potatoes... and then, hey presto! Suddenly, shark -fins of all shapes and sizes start popping up like jack-in-the-boxes near every fish farm, and Great White Sharks (yes, that’s right – always charcaradon charcarias, never anything less dramatic or obvious) take to posing for photographs by every recognisable coastal landmark you care to name. Roll on the silly season...

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Actually, for those of you who might want a slightly more reliable indicator of the arrival of summer than our annual bout of shark-hysteria – that is to say, apart from an ordinary desktop calendar – I suggest you try reading the letters pages of the local newspapers. That’s right, folks: Rome might be burning, and Nero might be training for the fiddling Olympics... but what does everybody want to talk about? Dogs. Whether dogs should wear muzzles or not. Which dogs are more dangerous than others. And yes, it does remain a touch more realistic than sharks... but for heaven’s sake, there were something like 44 letters on the subject in the past month alone. (Interestingly enough, it was reported as a parliamentary question that in the past year, a grand total of seven people were actually bitten by dogs. So by my count, if you multiplying the number of letters by 12 to get an annual average, that fixes the ratio of letters to actual dog-bites at just over 75:1...)

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But no matter. If you ask me, it makes perfect sense to talk about dogs, precisely at a time when the entire country seems to be going in that direction anyway. To the dogs, I mean. And besides, having been bitten myself on more than one occasion by a particularly vicious breed of local hound – the political party lapdog, to be precise – I feel that this is a debate to which I can actually make a few contributions for a change. So here are my own views on the subject... starting with:

How to recognise a dangerous dog

There are many different breeds of potentially dangerous political party dogs. However, while each has its own unique characteristics, all tend the display the same unmistakable canine qualities:

a) Not unlike their domestic relatives, our local (and altogether less domesticated) political varieties are also known for the blind, passionate, unswerving and dangerously obsessive devotion they invariably reserve for their undisputed masters.

b) Despite their reputation for being dangerous, in many cases you will find that their bark is infinitely worse than their bite. Generally speaking, this is because dogs of this nature rarely, if ever, bite the hand which feeds them. Quite the contrary: it has been observed that, when dealing with their own masters, these otherwise “dangerous” dogs suddenly become docile in the extreme. Rather than bite, the overwhelmingly tendency under these circumstances is for them to lick. And no, not just hands, either...

c) Perhaps because of an infestation of parasites that seems to pervade all aspects of public life, or perhaps because they simply don’t know any better, most of these dogs spend much of their adult life busily scratching each other... usually in the region of the back. Although it is unsightly in the extreme, back-scratching is actually the way hierarchy is maintained in the often complex social structures of a political canine pack. This is why the first thing your typical party dog will learn is whose back is worth scratching.

d) You will notice at a glance that this type of dog is inevitably very well-groomed. Grooming is, in fact, an indispensable part of the day-to-day pet-care of your party dog. In many cases, you will find that the dog in question would have been carefully and meticulously groomed for a specific position, sometimes for years beforehand. Which brings me to the final, and arguably most important, characteristic:

e) They are very expensive to maintain. Apart from grooming (which, in at least one case I know, cost the tax payer some Lm3 million), these dogs also need to be pampered and fêted for fear of losing their otherwise proverbial canine loyalty. For this reason, they must be regularly fed on a rich diet of contracts, tenders, chairpersonships, as well as the occasional consultancy here and there.

Now let’s take a closer at a few of the breeds themselves. However, before proceeding, a word of caution. For all their claims to possess “political pedigree”, you will find that some of these supposedly “pure” specimens are actually cross-breeds. Judging by the way they snap at each other while vying for their masters’ attention, I personally wouldn’t exclude the possibility that one or two of them may even be double-cross breeds. You have been warned...

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The Spit-Bull Terrier (Canis Sparatagrossis Incredibilis)

Although widely believed to be the most dangerous of all local breeds, the Spit-Bull Terrier’s reputation is actually somewhat exaggerated. As the name implies, this breed is identifiable mainly due to the often outrageous amount of pure, unadulterated “bull” it is capable of spitting... most often, in the form of shamelessly obsequious articles in praise of its own political master, and for which the dog in question will be publicly patted on the head (the ultimate dream of every political party dog, regardless of breed or demeanour).

The Huckleberry Howler (Canis Pruzuntusis Lamentabilis Tremendis)

Although this breed is known mostly for the attribute that gave it its name – i.e., its tendency to howl pitifully like a beaten dog each time its political master is in any way attacked – this breed is also identifiable at a glance thanks to a unique physical characteristic unknown in virtually any other breed: i.e., the sheer, overwhelming and often unbelievable size of its cheek.

Very often, the Huckleberry Howler will be a dog totally unsuited to virtually any position of responsibility. And yet, in spite of its often appalling mediocrity, in nine cases out of 10 it will somehow manage to insinuate its way (as a rule, by scratching all the right backs and licking all the right... bowls) into the very position to which it is least suited.

Even then, it will behave for all the world as though it were the only animal capable of performing such tasks, while loudly moaning (sorry, “howling”) about everybody’s else’s incompetence in absolutely everything.

As for the howling itself, this very often takes the form of a rather pathetic series of repetitive rambles, in which the dog will lament and bemoan the cruelty with which its own master is so unfairly and maliciously criticised by other rival dogs. Needless to add, the fact that the selfsame master treats other people (and their dog) exactly the same way, is neither here, there, nor anywhere else.

Again, what makes this kind of howling memorable is not so much the loudness or the pitch... but rather, the duration. In fact, I know of one such creature which still hasn’t stopped howling ever since its beloved political party was well and truly whipped... in last year’s MEP elections...

The Dog-in-a-Manger (Canis Civilis Fanientis Lethargicus)

Although not “dangerous” in the strictest sense of the word, this type of dog can nonetheless be annoying in the extreme. By and large, it is identifiable by the position it holds in any given party-structure... usually a purely nominal, non-executive and utterly inconsequential position with which it was rewarded for services rendered.

Like most dogs, this particular breed is genetically programmed to spend practically all its comfortable life doing nothing at all... except for yawning, scratching (see above), and occasionally wagging its tail each time its master throws it a little biscuit for being such a well-behaved, insignificant little ball of fluff.

However, from time to time, this idyllic life of luxury and indolence will be shattered by another rival dog, who will unfairly criticise the dog-in-a-manger for not fulfilling any of the obligations which were supposed to come with the post it occupies. Worse still, the rival dog might even try to usurp the position, by attempting to prove that, unlike the present incumbent, it does possess the necessary energy and vision to be more successful in the role.

Needless to say, the moment this happens you can rest assured that the dog-in-a-manger will suddenly wake up from its deep sleep, and start yapping away incessantly just to remind everybody that it does, indeed, exist. This, by the way, is the closest it will ever get to actually being aggressive... although in extreme cases, the breed has been known to cock its leg and – not unlike a certain Brussels monument – urinate all over its rival’s proposals... without, naturally, offering any suggestions of its own.

The Sleeping Dog (Canis Giddiebus Naso Lunghissimus)

As the popular proverb says, “let sleeping dogs lie”. (In other words, even if you don’t believe a word they say, just ignore them...)