On Saturday afternoon, the energy-sapping sunshine and heat was softened by the sorts of heavy clouds which often promise a rain if not a storm. In the heavy wilting heat of the morning, we'd done our weekly run to the local fresh fruit and veggie market (what I sometimes call the 'bazaar' in a nod to the Mauritius bazaars of my childhood, where local growers gathered to sell and spruik their fruit and vegies), and a seller reminded us that it was February 13. It was cool enough that we ventured outside - me, LittleOne and Indi-Girl, our beloved nine-year-old pupper. We grooved outside, did some water-painting, ate some lychees, wondered if the clouds would bring a storm and looked for magic wands in the backyard. At some point, I looked up and saw Indi-Girl strolling down the side of the house towards the front - to do her regular nose-check of smells and scents of all those who've been by since she last checked. And as far as Indi is concerned, if some poor passer-by...