So I'm thrilled to say that as of last week we have two new additions to the Lofthouse clan.

I took it upon myself to adopt two adorable and snuggly snakes.

Okay, so I guess they’re not going to make the top 10 of ‘animals you want to pet and dress up in Christmas jumpers’ anytime soon, but I love them.

I’m sure you all know I’m crazy about our feathered, furry (and even scaly) friends, so when I hear that one doesn’t have a family to spend the holidays with, I’m there in a flash.

My eagerness to take in every woof and stray has had an extremely detrimental effect on my relationships, as I’m sure you can imagine.

One potential suitor blocked me on Facebook after my dog piddled on his shoe through sheer excitement. I assured him that it was an honour to have her urinate on you as it meant she really liked you.

Alas, taking on an incontinent dog was too much for him.

Another ex fled the premises and, I’m assuming after 74 unsuccessful phone calls in one day, changed his number after I tried to introduce him to Hector.

Hector is my adorable tarantula, who unfortunately has acquired a taste for human blood.

He also enjoys feasting on terrified human souls and drinking baby tears.

Apart from these minor flaws though he’s a pretty sound guy.

I swear he’d give you his last fiver if you needed it.

As you can imagine I was wary of introducing any potential future ex-boyfriends to my animal family, and especially more so since I discovered I couldn’t even rely on my bestie:

“I don’t blame them!” she scoffed. “I hate it at your house, especially with the spiders!

“That’s why I always carry hairspray!”

I angrily informed her that no amount of Pantene Pro V would stop Hector – it would just put him in an even worse mood but with fabulous hair.

“If they don’t love animals then it isn’t meant to be!” I reassured myself, waiting for my latest beau to land on my doorstep.

Much to my relief, he didn’t seem fazed by all the wildlife, even going so far as to comment on how interesting they were.

Things were going well and he seemed genuinely impressed with my take on a snake swallowing a whole mouse, or in this case a rather large marshmallow snowman.

Then I decided to unleash the larger tail with a face from its enclosure and hell broke loose.

The snake obviously didn’t take to his new dad and lunged at his face faster than a Shelley on a Sultan’s £12 special.

Now sporting what resembled a poor man’s clown nose, my beau made his excuses (his friend’s mam’s dog’s cousin had just died) and he left.

I wanted to get angry at my reptilian relative but he slid into my cardigan and snuggled into me, content with having mama all to himself.

“You know what?” I told him. “If he can’t take a bite from one of the people I love the most then he isn’t worth it.”

I don’t mind that my pets are jealous and a little crazy.

After all, boyfriends will come and go.

You might not get to love your pet for all of your life, but they’ll certainly love you for all of theirs.