I seem to attract stray creatures of all varieties ... but mainly dogs.

Apart from having several dogs myself - mainly unwanted by anyone else - if there is a dog lost or running loose in the street, it always seems to find me.

I noticed this strange phenomena started several years ago, while standing in mum and dad's garden on a hot summer's day during the school holidays, watching the world go by.

As I looked up the street, I saw a small, long haired, absolutely filthy dog - a '57 varieties' mongrel - racing at great speed towards our garden.

It was a kind of automatic reaction (because it looked scared) but I opened our gate and in it tore, panting profusely and dribbling down its furry beard.

Our own dog, Suzie, was less than pleased. A grumpy Chihuahua cross, she had to be bundled inside the house and was most displeased at this intruder on to her turf.

I managed to catch this manic little dog and scooped it up, tucking it under my arm, while mum went to get it a bowl of water, as it was obviously hot and distressed.

I started wandering over to the local park, thinking it must have run off while out for a walk. Had I used my brain, I would have used Suzie's collar and lead, but instead, despite the heat, I chose to carry the little tearaway round.

Finally, about 45 minutes later, I found a distraught mother and son, who lived not too far away from us. Yes, he was their dog, and yes, he had scarpered during a walk. They thanked me profusely and went on their way.

As I walked home, I became aware of a very pungent aroma and people side-stepping me and keeping their distance. Yes, it was me. Having carried round a furry yet filthy bundle of fur - under my arm - on a hot August day for nearly an hour, the aroma was sickening - rather like the worst case of body odour one could ever imagine - clinging to my clothes and skin.

I was ashamed.

On arriving home, several scrubs in the bath later, I thought, at least I had done the decent thing and reunited him with his owner.

Some time later, again just walking down the street, minding my own business, I found I was being followed by a white poodle.

"Oh, no," I thought.

Sure enough, she was lost.

But although she followed me, she would not let me pick her up, so I ended up chasing her down the main street and dodging traffic, until eventually, I cornered her in a cul-de-sac. Using a belt as a makeshift collar and lead to walk her home, I put her in my car after giving her a drink and decided to take her to the animal sanctuary, Easterleigh in St Annes.

By this time, we had more dogs ourselves and I didn't think it would be a great idea to bring her into our house.

This time, I was thanked by having the hot dog vomit all over me as I drove along.

Luckily, this tale too had a happy ending. Her frantic owner had been ringing round the RSPCA, Easterleigh, the police and vets' surgeries looking for her dog, who had escaped when the back gate was inadvertently left open.

So they were reunited and I went home smelling vile again, but at least happy I had done another good deed.

But, as I said, these things always seem to happen to me, and not too long after this, walking past my local park, I became aware of a very elderly Labrador trundling along beside me, wagging her tale in a very pally manner and smiling away.

"You're lost, aren't you?" I said - not really requiring an answer.

Off we went to Easterleigh again. What a great job they do there - and on a shoestring budget.

Within minutes, my elderly new pal was given a drink and found a comfortable bed, despite there being no room at the inn. Other dogs were hastily moved around to accommodate this grand old lady and I left my telephone number in case her owner turned up.

Later that day, I received a call from Easterleigh to say the upset owner had telephoned, but that she too was elderly ... and without transport. I called her back and said I would give her a lift, which she gladly accepted.

This dog, it turned out, had wandered out of her house, alone, for the first time in her life. She usually slept on grandma's bed and it was a great shock that she had disappeared and taken herself to the park.

We picked her up from the animal sanctuary and I took the happy duo home. I felt quite choked when I saw grandma come into the garden, looking frail in her night clothes, but unable to contain her enthusiasm to see her dog. The joy in the dog's face was obvious too and I felt pleased I had played my part in reuniting them.

More recently, while driving down the promenade, I saw a tiny Yorkshire Terrier racing down the road at great speed, dodging across the tram tracks and almost ending up on the beach.

With the tide coming in, I thought the worst.

I was already late for an appointment. But I couldn't just drive past and do nothing. I parked up and gave chase, but this little terrier was really quick and kept darting off when I went anywhere near him.

It was raining and he was bedraggled and pitiful.

Eventually, noticing him hanging around outside a chip shop, I had a bright idea. I went in and bought a couple of jumbo sausages. Sure enough, he was waiting outside and I coaxed him towards me with a trail of sausages.

As soon as he came near enough, I grabbed him by the collar. Despite trying to bite me initially, when I gave him the other sausage, he was happy enough and let me put him in my car and drive him home. His owner was out looking for him - he had jumped out of their car on returning from a shopping trip and run off. Even though he was 13, he was a speedy little thing.

So another happy reunion followed.

But on a sad note, not all rescues have left me feeling good.

One horrible November night, when there were gale force winds and torrential rain, I saw a small mongrel, again bolting down the road in a blind panic, soaking wet. All I did was pull my car up alongside him and open the door and in he jumped.

He was so relieved, he was trying to jump on my knee and lick my face.

Luckily, he had a name tag on his collar, so I started to drive him home, fully expecting a relieved owner to be crying at his safe return on such a bleak night.

On walking up the drive, I saw the family sitting watching tv.

I rang the bell and a woman ambled to the door.

There was no look of relief on her face, nor even a spark of shock at seeing her dog in such a state.

"Um ... I found him running along the road," I said, as I put the poor little creature down and he ran into the hall. "He's soaking."

"Oh, has he got out again?" she said, totally unconcerned. "I really must get that gate fixed."

Then she shut the door without even a thank you.

I walked off feeling sad. I was sure it wouldn't be too long before this little bundle was bolting off up the road again.

There have been other occasions when I have seen dogs obviously lost that cannot be caught.

I hope they have all found their way home safely.