Worried your pet is pining for you when you leave him home alone? Now he can call you on the dog-and-bone

• One in four British households has a dog
  
• 5m canine companions spend more than three hours alone every day
• Now they can keep in touch with SmartDog, world's first phone for dogs
• Incorporates webcam, speaker, microphone and dog biscuit dispenser
• PETRONELLA WYATT and her Papillon bitch, Mini, put it to the test

By Petronella Wyatt

Published: 17:56 EDT, 19 February 2014 | Updated: 06:07 EDT, 20 February 2014

By this time the whole restaurant thinks I am. So does my companion, who is flushed with embarrassment and obviously wishing she had stayed in bed with a cold. 'What are you doing?' she whispers. 'I'm phoning my dog,' I explain. 'But she won't pick up the phone.'

Yes, reader, I have just taken delivery of SmartDog, the world's first phone for dogs, which I hope will bring an end to the havoc my Papillon bitch, Mini, has wreaked on my home, social life and conscience for the past three years. 

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High-tech hound: Petronella with Mini and the wall-mounted SmartDog phone device

One in four British households has a dog, as beloved as any other family member. Yet this figure belies a worrying trend. Five million of our canine companions spend more than three hours on their own every day while we got to work or enjoy evenings out.

When I leave the house, Mini engages in acts of mass destruction, pulling my shoes from cupboards, chewing DVDs, unmaking my bed and even tampering with my laptop.

And that's just the visible damage. On top of this, she has cost me two potential boyfriends, and the temporary goodwill of friends who are irked when I ring to cancel an appointment because Mini has already begun to cry at the sound of my hairdryer.

So when I heard about SmartDog, a phone-style gadget which allows you to video-call your dog when you are out, I hoped my torment was over.

The invention of canine-loving entrepreneur Nicky Shaw, SmartDog incorporates a webcam, speaker, microphone and even a dog biscuit dispenser into a device fixed to a wall in your house, and connected to a special app you download on your smartphone.

Checking up: Petronella used to worry about what Mini was up to when she left her home alone

When you activate the app, it causes the wall device to play a pre-recorded message of you calling your dog’s name, encouraging them to come within camera range, so you can begin to talk.

Nicky developed SmartDog after her Labrador made her feel terrible when left home alone.

She assures me that SmartDog will imbue Mini with a new sense of security, as I shall not only be able to call her to talk to her, but a unique wifi sensor will also allow her to phone me whenever she walks into camera range of the device, triggering a videocall to my smartphone.

Not only that, I'll be able to accept or decline her call and compensate for her disappointment by commanding the SmartDog dispenser to drop a biscuit at her feet.

SmartDog does not go on general sale until April - it will cost a maximum of £250 - so Mini and I are road-testing it.

When Nicky arrives to install it, I am surprised by how discreet the wall device appears: small and white, it's secured by two screws, causing minimal damage.

I didn't do it! Mini has been known to destroy furniture and clothes when left alone

Once connected to my wifi network, I download the free SmartDog app and Mini and I are now ready to chat. I begin slowly and walk to my local Waitrose. Mini is already barking with displeasure as I close the door behind me, but I wait until I reach the butcher's counter before pressing 'call' - hoping the sound of my voice played through the wall device will bring her within eyeshot of its camera.

The caveat is, Mini has seldom obeyed a command of mine since I bought her. At home, the device may be shouting 'Mini', but Mini is taking her time.

The man behind the meat counter is looking at me with annoyance. 'Did you want something?' 'Yes, four lamb burgers,' I reply, staring at my phone. 'And, er...a tail!' I shout excitedly. 'We don’t sell tails.' 'No, my dog's tail,' I shriek. 'It's here!'

He pales. I show him my screen. 'Look. My dog.' There is a sigh of relief. Presently her whole body comes into view. 'Hello Mini,' I squeak. She clearly hears me but doesn't know where to look. I can see her turning her head and running about the room in the belief that I must be hiding.

Having left no piece of furniture unturned, she concludes I am imprisoned in the wall device, for she leaps up at it, looking as if she will jump through my phone and land - cartoon-like - between the venison sausages.

Desperately, I press the treat icon on the SmartDog app to dispense a few goodies, hoping to calm her down. I can see the dog biscuit shoot from the wall. Accidently, I dispense two more.

This does, thankfully, have a salutary effect, keeping her munching happily for the next ten minutes. When I arrive back home, she still has a half-finished biscuit between her teeth.

I attempt to acclimatise her to the device by activating it when I am still in the house. Slowly she begins to realise it is my voice and not a Borrower-style me. I leave the house once more, and when I switch on the SmartDog app, she soon appears on the screen, barking.

Dogs are such social animals. She continues to yap for five minutes. I begin to worry about my phone bill - what if she’s on the line for hours? Nicky tells me that because the calls are made through wifi, it's free. But I'm nervous about the idea of her calling me - although I can decline the call, she might find this not only upsetting, but ill-mannered.

The following evening, I get dressed to have a drink with a friend in a hotel in Kensington.

Mini is looking sorrowful, so I have re-stocked the treat dispenser with her favourite garlic-cheese biscuits. On this occasion, instead of calling her, I will wait for her to call me.

5m canine companions spend more than three hours alone every day

I want to test Nicky's claim that my dog will be able to get in touch with me. I set my phone down on the table in the bar and order a glass of wine, feeling sceptical. Can the sensor on the wall device really enable Mini to call me, by the mere fact of her walking in front of the camera?  

It can. After 20 minutes my phone begins to go 'Woof', thanks to the app's special ringtone. 'S'cuse me,' I say nonchalantly, 'it's my dog,' I accept the call and her ears appear on the screen. 'Everything OK?' I ask. 'Don’t open the doors to strangers, and remember to turn off the lights in the hall if you go to bed.'

I am beginning to find SmartDog highly entertaining. So is Mini. She calls again in three minutes. 'Are you going to spend the evening talking to your dog?' asks my disgruntled friend. When Mini calls again I reluctantly decline to pick up and dispense a treat instead.  

I begin to realise that SmartDog can make you more, not less, obsessed with your pet. On one occasion, when she doesn't come to the wall device when I call, I want to rush home, fearful that she is ill, kidnapped or crippled.

When I come home, she regards me with a faintly resigned looks that says 'Oh, you again.' In dogs, as in humans, it may be a case of familiarity breeding contempt.

Indeed, SmartDog can cause as many problems as it solves. Smart, yes.

But I am still in the dog house when I go on dates. 'If you call that dog once more,' said the latest, 'I will leave now - without paying for drinks.'

That settled it. My dog phone, has, for the time being, been put on hold.