Most of the club members have owned more dogs than there are dalmatians in that famous film, so Gail, who has only ever lived with Hamish and me, often tries to tap into their experience.
On Tuesday night, while I was conversing with Willow Border Collie, I overheard Gail asking this:
"Do you think dogs' barks get deeper with age, like human voices? I certainly hope so."
I don't think I am being oversensitive in detecting a note of criticism here.
Phrases like "ear-splitting", "unbelievably piercing", "shrill and grating" and "setting one's teeth on edge" have, within range of my flappy little ears, been used before by Gail to describe my dulcet tones.
You know what? In my not so humble opinion, it takes one to know one.
And anyone who heard Gail sing along with 'Swing Low Sweet Chariot' while the rugby was on TV yesterday (actually, a flat croak would be a more accurate description) will call to mind that proverb about glass houses and stones…
My rendition of 'Flower of Scotland' was of course pitch perfect, although Gail exaggerated when when she said it was probably audible at Murrayfield.
OK, so you can now judge for yourself who has the worse voice….