Nell: Is that Nigel as a puppy?
Me: It was taken just after Charlotte rescued him. Wasn’t he adorable?
Nell: I suppose so. Why is he looking through a chair?
Me: He was practising his poem at the weekend while watching us eat.
Nell: What poem?
Me: It’s Charlotte’s birthday today and Nigel wrote her a poem.
Nell: I write the poems.
Me: I know.
Nell: I’m the poet, not Nigel.
Me: Well, this time it’s Nigel’s turn. Do you want to hear it?
Nell: Not really.
Me: I’m reading it anyway:
‘My name is Nigel
And I want to say
That my darling Barl
Has a birthday today.
I know her name’s Charlotte
But those in the know
Always call her Barley
Like Sara and co.
And as her dear Nigel
I’m as proud as can be
To call her my Barl
And say Happy Birthdee.
My poem’s not perfect
Or even that clever
But it comes with my love
For ever and ever.’
Nell: Does ‘co’ refer to me?
Me: And Kev and Dave and Harriet.
Nell: At least he tried.
Me: It was sweet.
Nell: It was heartfelt which is something.
Me: Barl’s going to love it.
Nell: Of course she is. I notice Xav the Cat didn’t write a poem.
Me: I don’t think poems are something cats bother with much.
Nell: Cats don’t bother with anything apart from themselves
Me: That’s a bit harsh, Nell.
Nell: Talking of cats, did David warn The Cat about the Beefies gathering?
Me: It wasn’t best pleased.
Nell: I told you he shouldn’t go over there so early in the morning.
Me: I meant about the Beefies.
Nell: I hope you have cake.
Me: For The Cat?
Nell: No. For your sister. It’s her birthday.
Me: Of course. Sorry.
