LIKE most canine companions, I talk to the hound. There are the basic instructions to stop her wandering aimlessly into the road.

There are more harsh commands to try and get her to refrain from invading a quiet, nervous dog’s personal space.

And there are the slightly pointless requests that she revels in ignoring: “No, please don’t rub yourself in that…”

But more than that, we chat. Especially on walks, we converse about the life we lead and the list of things that require attention.

She is a good listener and rarely contradicts me.

I was disturbed by a recent report that seven in 10 people talk to their dogs using a high-pitched voice, and over half use “baby talk”.

It is not a habit I seek to cultivate. Our conversations are more Newsnight than Nina and the Neurons There is a narrative that dogs are somehow child substitutes.

I understand the point but have to say that the hound costs me far less in university fees and birthday gifts and is generally far more compliant.

The report also found that four in 10 dog owners read, or even sing, to their hounds.

This is something that doesn’t happen in our house. Years of singing “the wheels on the bus” when the teenagers who live in my house rent-free were toddlers has more than inured me to the joys of singing to others – although my acapella version of Hotel California was always a hit.

And if the hound wants a story, well, she can find a podcast.

But the real stand-out fact for me was that many dog owners had thought about what their dogs would sound like if they could talk. And one in four suggested they would sound like Tom Hanks.

I’m a big fan of the Hankster but would be terrified if the hound starting reciting lines from Toy Story.

No, I think she is far more likely to embody the vocal timbre of someone less traditionally articulate yet more down to earth.

A Danny Dyer perhaps, or a Ray Winstone. Not so much “to infinity and beyond” and more “are there any more biscuits?”