I wake up and i have a big heaving lump pressed up next to me. I can’t move too much unless I am ready to serve breakfast, I slowly try and turn to get my phone from the floor…a head pops up.

Not yet, not yet. Half an hour later I say ‘Good Morning Baby!’ and a big fat waggy tailed beats leaps up and puts her beautiful head right in my face, and i think, this is my favourite time of the day.

She comes in for a spoon and then i have about 45 seconds before she leaps down and demands her breakfast. I say demands, the bitch asks for 2 things a day, 2 meals and 2 walks, least I can do is be ready for the first one.

I remember seeing a picture of one, and my heart skipped. I held my breath and just thought, "Wow, magic." Then in the hospice, I was like, “Oh if I could have any dog, it would be that one in the snow that looks like a bear.” And I had to Google it—Bernese Mountain Dog. They had them in the UK? Seriously? Fuck it, Mum was dying. Life was over as I knew it. That will fix it.

Why the fuck not.

I have known Bernie for 8 years and it’s almost like I have known her forever. She knows me, I know her. I love that she is ridiculous, she is stubborn—if she doesn’t want to do something and doesn’t want to move, she doesn’t move. My sister would try and take her for a walk when I was away and even though it was not practical, Bernie wouldn’t go beyond the bottom of the street and then come straight back home to wait for me.

I have never had anything be as loyal as I am. I feel so very lucky and handpicked. I feel like she handpicked me. I don’t expect everyone to get it. But I do.

I kiss her feet, her nose, her head, her cheeks. There is not a part of her that I do not think is perfection. And don’t get me wrong—she is a dick, a massive dick. She eats all the food, she steals everything. In her lifetime,

Here are just a few of the things Bernie has stolen:

A homemade 4-tier chocolate birthday cake
Joasia’s 30th birthday cake
Joasia’s 29th birthday cake
My 39th birthday cake
A pack of dried yeast
A bag of rolled oats
Baking soda
A bag of noodles
Cornstarch
Asia’s protein powder
Oat milk
Lots of oat milk
A hundred butter
Several loaves of bread
Croissants, from the house and from the bakers
A raw fillet of beef for a beef Wellington
The rest of the beef Wellington
Shit wrappers
Chocolate with wrappers in them
Wotsits
Skips
Yogurt
Cream cheese

I don’t think there is anything she hasn’t stolen.

I remember a week after my mum’s funeral

Maybe two weeks, I had an audition in London and I wanted to make it. I wanted to prove that I could do it. I got to New Street and the world zoomed in. I couldn’t breathe easily, I felt overwhelmed, suffocated and called my friend Suzi. She guided me to go home, get in a taxi and go home. Being out in public felt raw, on fire, like my insides were on fire. They were, in a way. I was dying too. Shedding skin to the life I knew.

I had reserved a BMD. I was meant to pick one up the day of the funeral, something to look forward to. Then the owners messaged and said they changed their mind and are keeping him. Friends said ‘ thank God, thats a sign from your mum! You wouldn’t know what to do with a giant dog, besides what are you gonna do when you go back on tour?

It fell through, and I gave up, or gave in. Of course it would fall through, why would anything work for me right now. Then a Google alert I had forgotten about showed one Bernese Mountain puppy that had been returned because the new owner didn’t want a pup with an overbite.

The breeder was Polish, the pup was Polish and born here. I went to get her and always remember bonding with this puppy on my lap and thinking, “Ahh I can’t believe this is my dog,” and the breeder was like, “No, that’s not your dog, your dog is over there eating carpet!” I thought, “I like strong, independent bitches—I’ll take her instead.”

And I did. Bernie felt like someone had unzipped my insides and gently places coconut oil all over my red roar insides. I felt so soothed, just being around her.

The night I picked her up, I drove all the way back to Birmingham and was worried: What if we don’t bond? What if she didn’t pick me? What if I don’t like her when she’s older? Sure, she’s cute now, but what if when she’s bigger we aren’t close? What if she doesn’t like me? What if I can’t do this? But then every time I looked at her, i just felt better.

After that, I went back to the train station, but with Bernie, i didn’t go anywhere, but i went several times, just to practice, Leaving the house became bearable, as long as Bernie was with me.

The Rug Pull

A few weeks later, I went to go out on tour. I had just been booked for my first massive TV gig—Live at the Apollo—and WWBD to be filmed for a BBC1 special. I was over the moon. And then my mum got diagnosed and died within weeks. What a rug pull. The tour was booked to capitalise on the new TV. I was meant to debut my Am I Right Ladies show, the one with me talking about my thighs touching and a thigh gap joke.

Charlotte, my tour manager, was like, “We do not have to do this. At any time, you can say no.” She put me with her husband to be my roadie and I took Bernie with me. The first show was in Bath, and I left Bernie at 13 weeks in the dressing room and I went on stage. I tried to start the show, I tried to start the thigh gap joke, and the words wouldn’t come out. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about mocking a thing so feckless. It didn’t matter. She was dead.

As I was struggling to keep going

…and you could hear it in my voice—there was scratching and a noise. Dru said it was Bernie in the green room. I said, “Let her out.” She joined me onstage and I introduced her to the crowd. I stopped trying to do my thigh gap joke and instead, started telling the story of how I got her. Politics for Bitches was born and Bernie has been coming on stage with me ever since.

She sleeps next to me. As long as our body parts are touching, I can sleep. I often hold a paw or have a foot next to mine. She’s over the cover, I’m under. I wake up and she looks above me with her big droopy mouth staring down at me with those massive brown eyes, delighted to see me. We have a routine where I say “Good morning,” and I squish her and we have a cuddle and then she catapults off the bed and does a twirl and keeps twirling until I get her breakfast out.

She is very funny.

She is loyal but not stupid. When I was staying at Asia’s dad who is old and has a routine. He would be up at 7:30, Bernie learned very quickly to be up at the same time. She would get fed and then come straight back to bed to me!

People say she doesn’t listen, but she does. She is the sweetest, kindest girl. She is instinctive to anyone who is sad. She knows when you need a cuddle.

I always remember when i was a new dog owner, she ran off ahead of me one day, when we were taking a walk by a lake. She ran straight towards a toddler whose mum was kneeling down next to him. I ran across shouting Sorry! She’s fine i promise she’s just big!! but the Mum seemed happy as Bernie planted herself next to the toddler. His wee arms lifted up around her neck. Bernie just sat next to him and he cuddled her. I was a. in shock, as she doesn’t usually like cuddles and b. apologising profusely. The mum said, “No, please don’t. We lost our dog a few weeks ago and he’s been so sad ever since.”

Bernie knew. She’s my grief dog.

When I cry, she comes and nuzzles her nose in. When I panic, she comes and paws me. When I’m stressed, she leans against me. When I’m angry, she barks and interrupts my shouting. I am happiest when we are chilling out together. There’s nowhere I want to go that isn’t improved by being with Bernie.

So much so that she comes everywhere with me.

I could barely leave the house when Mum died. I can go anyhere as long as I know I’m with Bernie.

She has been all across the UK on tour.

As long as she is with me or at home waiting and not away for more than 4 hours, we are both happy. She has made me braver.

I faced my CPTSD on the head and forced myself to go to Europe, get out of home, get out of comfort and face your anxiety and dread. And it worked, I started trusting myself, i started feeling capable again, I started loving life again, because Bernie has been right by my side.

My lil jet setter.

She has been with me to the Eiffel Tower, to Dijon in France, to Annecy Lake, to Berlin, to Hamburg, to Amsterdam, to the Netherlands, to Krakow, to Poznań, to Gdańsk, to Warsaw, to Poznań again, to NYC, to Austin, to the Grand Canyon, and now to LA.

She has also improved my quality of life. I was living in a shared flat in London on the 3rd floor of a walk up. Now everywhere I stay has to be ground floor, with a garden and aircon. I like that standard.

I have been a lil anxious about today. I don’t want her to get closer to getting older. I also need to not put the anticipation of my Mums upcoming anniversary on this. Equally I’m a human being and navigating life mate.

Bernie is happy and healthy, I home cook her food so she doesn’t have to eat nasty american meat and kibble, I don’t care if I go without, my girl is having organic chicken. Large breeds don’t live the longest and she has promised me till 10, so I am doing everything in my power to give her a wonderful life. I am so in love with her. I want her to be happy and healthy forever.

She has saved my life

This dog. I have no doubt I would be dead without her. There is no way I would have survived that period without her. It wasn’t just my mum—the whole family unit was in grief and I went through hell, absolute hell. Things I’ve never been able to talk about or discuss. Things that even now I cannot or want to deal with. It’s time to move forward.

She has been there through shit relationships, through bullshit, through depression, through burn out, through grief. And she is still the most joyful thing. I love her big brown eyes, I love her expressions, i found myself doing a Bernie face the other day. I love her voice, I love her sass, I love her stubbornness.

She is my best friend, my doghter.

My baby. She is also the reason I still hear the word ‘Mum’ every day. ‘Come to Mummy Baby!” and I love that, I didn’t realise, thats what I had done, but love that.

She is the sweetest soul, she is smart and gentle and intelligent and at the same time, such a giant goof ball. She doesn’t care much for other dogs, but she loves people, especially groups of women, she is obsessed with my audiences. I also find it hilarious that she knows when I have finished a show because there is a big round of applause, so she gets up and takes a big stretch but it also looks like a bow.

She is perfect for me, my comedy dog. She likes life but she loves me. People say she is obsessed with me, which is perfect, because I’m pretty obsessed with her too.

Happy birthday my favourite lil sausage monkey head.

Big Love xxxxx

Buy Bernie Some Birthday Chicken!