We take our walk in the rain. This is because Daisy has not been out today and it is growing dark. Daisy is not happy about it. We are both thinking of home. The sofa with the dip in it. The dislodged roof tile. We are keeping our heads low, out of the wind. One of us is becoming much soggier than the other. So I begin to sing. It’s not much of a song, I confess. The words take up Daisy and her plight amongst the puddles. The trouble with having fur. The tune is minimal. The vocalisation is poor. But we are listening, Daisy and I, out in the dusky rain. We rush towards the words. They are our shelter.