I don’t know a lot about saints but St. Valentine doesn’t seem to have the same rapport with animals as St. Francis.
My big plan last night was to cuddle up with her on the stroke of midnight after she’d been to that Valentine’s Eve concert of that Right guy she’s been swooning around the place about for the last ages.
Everything seemed to be going perfectly especially when I heard her getting out of the car humming something about Love is in the air …..
She came in all hazy eyed and barely said ‘hello,’ even when I gazed up at her trying to catch her full attention. That’s just not like her at all, at all. Next, she starts waltzing around with a cup of tea singing this song:
For a minute, I thought it was Stanny Boy and my little heart missed a beat but alas … and she waltzed on up to bed.
I’m delighted to tell you that she’s back to normal today and we had a lovely walk in the woods this morning. It was all green and gorgeous and we were just plain happy:
See, I think I AM Mr. Right after all!
P.S. I realise now that the other guy spells his name with a W. Does that make him Mr. Wrong?