Some afternoons back, I was taking a nap on the sofa. In my half-asleepness I felt Porthos climb over me and slip something into my pocket. I opened my eyes and saw him turn away, grinning from ear to ear, as though he had just played a delicious trick on his poor old mother.
So I thought I’d better check to see what it was – dead insect? slimy-wet tissue? Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out a long slip of paper and here is what it said:
Times like that, I can’t imagine anything else I’d rather be than a mother.