The chuckles and high-pitched giggles make it all worthwhile, aiming for enormous puddles and watching waves of water blur my vision of the road in front of me. She might be a teenager, but driving through puddles still makes her laugh.
The rain was horrific last night, even by Irish standards. I woke this morning to a deluge hammering against walls and windows, watched the dog bound towards the door to go out only to slide to a halt deciding his morning ablutions could wait until the shower passed. But he stood, and he waited. the teen wandered downstairs, took one look outside and, a little defeated, decided riding wasn’t an option today. And then her face lit up when she proclaimed her excitement at driving through puddles on the way to school. Each possible huge one on each bend, twist and blocked drain on the road was discussed with such enthusiasm it made me smile. The dog decided the rain has disappeared long enough to go and relieve himself, and then he, too, at the grand old age of 11 decided to play in the puddles in the garden. He bounded from one to the other with abandon, pouncing in each one and then trying to catch the droplets as they fell back down. Soaked and sated, he landed himself at my feet to be dried off, tongue lolling and tail wagging at the prospect of all the rubs and cuddles.
Where oh where did I get these wonderful souls? Happy Friday all
MLP
