Our dog is on heat - so why am I the one turning red?

It is mid-afternoon - post-lunch but safely before the schools let out - and I am walking the dog in the direction of what my wife and I now call the Triangle parks.

- Tim Dowling

The Triangle parks are the result of a long road cutting diagonally across the regular grid of suburban streets, leaving two small, three-sided communal gardens. They are close but hard to get to and it was only during my long lockdown walks that I eventually discovered a route to them.

Recently, they have proved useful: they’re both fenced and likely to be deserted mid-afternoon. When your dog is on heat, regular parks are out of the question.

“How long does this last for?” I say, on our return. “I swear the whole thing started over a month ago.”

“Did you have fun?” my wife says to the dog. “Where did you go?”

“The Triangle parks,” I say. “You weren’t gone for long,” she says.

“I threw the ball about nine times,” I say. “Then we lost the ball. Then a poodle turned up.”

“A dog or a bitch?” my wife says.

“I couldn’t tell from that distance,” I say, “so we legged it through a side gate.”

“There’s no need to panic,” she says.

“I wasn’t panicked,” I say, “just embarrassed.”