Cloudburst

Well I did ask for this. “More rain, please” I begged, as I watched the grass go yellow and the duck pond disappearing. Only two days ago I passed the pond to check its progress, and it was still drawing away from the rim. The mud at the bottom was exposed, and there was a Stella Artois bottle stuck in it, neck first. I thought of wading out to get it but didn’t want to get muddy – I would probably slip and fall straight into what was left of the pond, and then die of some obscure scummy disease. Why must people drop their rubbish? They do it out of sheer spite now, but maybe one day they’ll stop and look around, and realize they live here too.

Or perhaps they’ll never realize it. They will forever imagine they live in someone else’s world.

It was damp and cool yesterday, but today when I set off to walk Thundercloud, I only got about 5 minutes away from my house when the heavens opened. I was warned by some very large spots of rain and dug out my umbrella from my wheelie bag. By the time the umbrella was open, the rain was slashing down in a fury, and the wind tried to bash the metal frame against my face and twist it out of shape. It cut sideways and got me wet anyway, so I turned round and hurried home. I don’t mind rain normally, but I had no particular desire to experience that all the way to Thundercloud’s house and back, with the dog walk itself in the middle.

So, no dog walk.

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