February 23. 11.30pm. “Button, that first hug I give you almost every morning is extremely therapeutic. Do you feel the same way?”

“I do. Honest to god.”

“Touch me and say that.”

“Here. Did you and your younger daughter go for a walk? At this time of night?”

“There was some left-over pizza we wanted to give the strays down the road. It was actually her idea so she and I walked down, fed them and walked back with her huffing and puffing all the way. But the satisfaction it gave us was phenomenal. We also discovered that there are six strays on this stretch. Five are rather well-fed but the one who was thrown out of the house when her owners went abroad looks very pale and undernourished. She’s the one we feel for the most. I have already told you about her.”

“Don’t break my heart again. I won’t get sleep the whole night. And did he eat?”

“He was ravenous and ate four segments.”

“I heard you and your younger daughter arguing this morning.”

“The usual mother-daughter argument. A good argument once in a while is healthy or so I hear. By the way, did she call you?”

“Who’s she.”

“Button, don’t pretend. You know who I am talking about.”

“She did. By the way, her name is Katrina. She also sent me some snaps of herself from her Blackberry. Here, look.”

“She’s cute. She looks particularly lovely in that frame. And when are the two of you meeting up?”

“We haven’t spoken about meeting up yet. When we do, you’ll be the first to know. Goodnight.”