Once upon a time, in moments of youthful angst, the hand of a sculptor produced doodles of ferocious but lumpy beasties. When they cried out to become three-dimensional, the clay they inhabited turned them from fierce to funny, and the species known as Pogs came into being.

Not pigs. Not dogs. Not hippos. Pogs.

We seem to have many human traits and people identify with us. Why not? We laugh, play, snack a lot, even lounge around on the sofa with take-out pizza.