Lap Dog

I love our dog days.

Anxieties about purpose disappear and time loses it’s definition as we chase leaves, fixate on the scent of long-gone squirrels and swim from the Limehouse steps when the tide allows.

Today we walked by the river, beyond Wapping Wall, almost to the Tower.
It poured, but we shook it off and walked on.

Home, drenched, everything dumped in the bath to be sorted later, we lay on the sofa dozing, twitching and snuffling through our dreams.