And Then I'm Happy For The Rest Of The Day

We went for a walk in the park yesterday afternoon, me with my tail wagging and Andrew with his tongue hanging out. It was lovely and sunny. We walked up Chesterfield Avenue, past the entrance to the Zoo. Sticky kids spilled out from the gates onto the path, clutching parents in one paw and stuffed penguins in the other, waddling two by two towards their cars. We borrowed my brother's Zoo pass a couple of weeks ago. I thought we'd get great use out of it. I had notions of us swinging with the lemurs after work on weekday afternoons, purring at the tigers and reading the red pandas a story at bedtime. But the Zoo closes at 6, and we've been busy at weekends. So we haven't gone at all.

"What would you like?" asked Andrew, rooting in his pockets for change when we got to the ice-cream van. I would like a three-day-weekend every week so that we have more time to do nice things like eat ice cream in the park and go to the zoo. "A 99, please" I said. But we only had enough change for two small cones, so that's what we got. And they weren't small at all. We slowed our pace, the better to eat our ice creams, and wandered off the path towards the polo grounds, taking care to avoid the oddball dressed head-to-toe in khaki raingear lying in the grass a few metres in from the road. He could only be playing with himself, we concluded.

The polo was in full thwock. "Hockey on a horse!" said Andrew and we stood at the fence on the far side of the pitch from the pavilion to watch the game. An unseen voice provided a running commentary through the pavilion's PA, though the only other spectators were in a huddle of three on the upper tier. "And Whompey comes in again for a challenge... eh, do you want to come in here?" the commentator said. Attention please, a child has been lost in the tunnel of goats...

Then the rain came. We finished our ice creams and headed for the shelter of the chestnut trees that line the Avenue. Some of the lower branches had been picked clean already, even though the conkers would still be white in their shells. "Snuggle for warmth" said Andrew, and he pressed up against me and kissed me. I remembered the oddball lying on the grass (playing with himself) and looked over to see him getting to his feet, soaking wet, and picking up a plastic Tesco bag from the ground beside him. I wonder what was in it. Binoculars and cheese and pickle sandwiches, I bet.

We made a run for it then. Well, we walked. We were too far from home to run. We held hands and Andrew told me that I looked very pretty in the rain even though I knew my fringe was hanging in rats tails down my forehead and my wet summer dress made me look like a sack of spuds. The rain was coming down so hard that drops were running down the sides of my nose and up into my nostrils. Sure what could you do but laugh. We got to the Fountain Road and Andrew broke into a trot. "Run with me, Pussycat" he said, and I huffed up the road after him, trying in vain to suck in my tummy and swallow my lungs.

It had almost stopped raining by the time we squelched around our corner. We got to our door and I laid my hands on the warm red brick of the house, feeling all the happiness in our home seep up my arms through my fingers. Andrew apologised later for taking me to the park, what with the rain and the pervert and the two small cones.

Husband, you warm the cockles of my heart.