I had a music day today. The Skankhammer came over, and immediately complemented me on my teapot. It makes a musical sound when it pours, and I'd never noticed. The two great loves of The Skankhammer's life are tea and music, so this for him was a wonderful moment.

We whacked out a vocal line for the soon-to-be-techno classic "My House That Looks Like Me" and pretty much polished off recording a samba number about my happy goat, which is looking like it's going to be one of my all-time faves. It is so very very happy, and goaty. I get to go Uuuuhuuuuuh, yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah, GOAT! This can only be a good thing.

We also had a crack at recording on the video camera a little ditty about the rooms of the house- a kids song - not a proper studio recording just a little fun thing- with Zak in it. He wasn't in the kind of mood I was anticipating though and instead of dancing around gleefully, which is what we had in mind, he shouted "STOP DADDY" every time I started playing. We would start again... twang twang "STOP DADDY STOP IT NOW!" - I'll see what it looks like when I've got the footage off the camera, but I think it might be even lovelier, if somewhat more shambolic, than what we were actually planning to do.

Today I have eaten my home-made pasta (lunch) and my home-made steak and kidney pie (tea) as well as various other things. I shall be making more of these things and I shall also be trying making bread in the near future.

Here is a photo of me showing my glorious home-made steak and kidney pie to Zak, while he evaluates it carefully, with the approach of a connoisseur of fine wines testing an exquisite vintage.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, 7 Seconds of Love are not the first people to record a song in honour of Laika, the first animal in space. We're in good company: The Arcade Fire, The Divine Comedy and Gorillaz have all had a go, amongst many others, and it's interesting to contrast the musical interpretations and what they reveal about their authors' feelings towards Laika and her mission.

Spanish 80s synth-popster Mecano, for example, leave us no doubt that we should pity Laika - just a normal dog who happened to be in the wrong suburb of Moscow at the wrong point in the space race. Their 1988 single 'Laika' is an earnest piece, with a soaring, heartfelt chorus of "Adios, Laika", and a lot of moithering on about how the awful chaps back at the control tower are popping the champers as Laika is left to drift off into the abyss. Oh boo hoo hoo. She's in FLIPPING SPACE, for god sake! IT MUST'VE BEEN THE MOST FUN ANY DOG HAS EVER HAD! Anyway, here they are on Rockomanía playing it live. Or as "live" as music on TV ever was in the 80s.

The Divine Comedy also leave the listener in no doubt that Laika was a tragic figure - 'Laika's Theme', a haunting instrumental from their 2004 album 'Absent Friends' has a hint of redemption at the end but is essentially another sob-story about a lost dog.

Why can't these people just get over it? HE GOT TO WOOF A BIT IN ZERO GRAVITY!

Worst of all, The Arcade Fire, on their 2005 album 'Funeral', compare the geniunely awful loss of their friend's brother to the luckiest rocket dog of the 1950s in 'Neighborhood #2 (Laika)'. Now, I don't want to trivialise their loss at all, but for goodness sake, enough dog pitying. FOR A PRECIOUS FEW DAYS, LAIKA GAZED AT THE EARTH AS A DISTANT AQUAMARINE ORB! HOW MANY DOGS GET TO DO THAT?

Clearly, all of these musical interpretations missed the point. They're obsessed with the canine tragedy of Laika. Surely if we can pity a dog for suffering, then we can also celebrate her wonderful journey into the abyss? I'll wager 6 days in space was a lot better than a few more miserable years begging for butcher's bones in Khrushchev's Russia.

Which is why our bombastic polska romp 'Rocket Dog' is the best song about Laika ever made. Apart, perhaps, from this wonderful Romainian-sexpop extravaganza which, although it doesn't specifically discuss Laika's mission literally, it definitely captures the spirit of the rocket dog. As you'll hear.