PEOPLE are always saying the country is going to the dogs. They are absolutely and literally right. The dogs are taking over.

More and more of our national resources are devoted to canine comfort. The goods and services range from pooch mattresses that are bigger than IKEA double-beds, to diamond pet-collars (and that's just for the dogs' fleas). Mutts are becoming a consumer force to be reckoned with.

The latest example of doggy empire building can be found in a Basildon park, Northlands. A figure-of-eight segment of the park has been commandeered as a dedicated dog-walk zone, or pawpath.

On the far side of the A127, where I live, my three dogs got a whiff of the project and instructed me to take them for a trial walk.

It meant cancelling the intimate supper date with Kylie Minogue and the knighthood investiture, but like every dog-owner from the Queen downwards, I know who's boss and where the priorities lie.

The dogs allowed a couple of humans from Basildon Council to accompany us on the walk, provided they were on their best behaviour and didn't jump up on the dogs or try to steal their biscuits.

Solomon, Tessie and Henry picked Rob Baker, area manager for parks and street cleaning, and Sarah Moran, the council's animal welfare officer (a role that used to be known as dog warden).

Both Rob and Sarah were involved in setting up the scheme. Now, as a reward, they were being allowed to walk it.

Ironically, the new pawpaths, already well frequented by dog-lovers, came about initially as a result of dog haters - or at any rate, people who had endured enough of man's best friend's least amiable characteristic.

"It started when the neighbourhood committee informed us they were increasingly concerned about dog fouling," said Rob. "They were talking about really drastic punishments for owners, but I prefer an approach where you try to educate people first. The stick only comes later, if all else has failed."

Rob then came up with one of those ideas that are so simultaneously brilliant and obvious you wonder nobody thought of it before. Actually, my dogs, of course, had thought of it, but stupid humans couldn't understand when they tried to tell us.

The idea is to mark out the pawpaths with bright scarlet dog-poo bins. From the Northlands park entrance, you can see a line of them, stretching round the lake and up the hill to the south of the park, like a line of guardsmen.

With markers as clear as these, nobody, human or dog, has any excuse for straying from the dedicated path. "Dog fouling is a serious issue, but the dog-bins make a big difference," said Rob.

"I often see dog owners tottering around the parks clutching a bag full of dog poo, and they don't look happy. You can sort of understand that they don't want to walk a long way like that.

But if they know there's a bin coming up at regular intervals, they've no need, or excuse, not to dispose of it hygienically." There is also a dispenser at the start of the walks that issues free polythene bags. The £5,000 budget allowed for the bins, a noticeboard and maps. The funding was obtained from Interlock, the local project that has been given Government money to improve the local quality of life.

As more money trickles into the dog-walk project, some signposts will also be added, though frankly the bins themselves do a very good job already. Eventually Rob hopes to paint paw-prints around the entire circuit.

It was time to road-test the pawpath. Sarah had brought along her Alsatian puppy Paddy as a fourth critic. So it was that three humans and a quartet of canines set off through the Pitsea badlands.

The figure of eight loop took us round the western side of the lake in an anti-clockwise direction. At the far end of the lake there is a parting of ways. Walkers have the chance to veer off up the hill and complete a full mile-long circuit, or double back on the far side of the lake (half a mile). By accident or design the complete circuit is roughly bone shaped.

The big moment we had all been awaiting happened abut three hundred yards into the walk. Suddenly Solomon stopped and performed whatever euphemism you prefer on the side of the path. Solomon looked pleased.

I felt that sinking feeling only dog-owners recognise as I bent to scoop it up.

"Don't worry," said Rob, "relief is at hand." Indeed it was, in the shape of a bright red poo-bin 50 yards away. "No matter where you are, you are never far from one of those on this walk," said Rob.

Stuff the dogs, I know I'll be coming back again to Northlands park.