Under the cover of darkness, saucepans in hand, we take to the pitch. On the blue team, Matt the Husband, dressed in undersized pyjamas that show off his bottom when he ties his laces. On the pink team, Mummy featuring a woolly hat and nightie from Primarni.
The away side, Daisy-woof, dressed in her own digs, warms up on the turf, scratching up the grass and snorting cold air through her nose. Refusing to wee on lead, the whistle goes and WE'RE OFF! Ducking and diving, twisting and turning, hurdling over steaming piles of poop and skidding on the dewy grass, Daisy-woof thinks its the best game she's played, EVER.
In the stands, fans for the home team, neighbours Neil and Lesley to the left, Karen and Alan on the right, Gracie at the frenchdoors, all cheering us on.
The blue team scores in the eigth minute with a dive across the touchline to rival anyone in the Rugby World Cup Final.
Everyone's happy. I've had some exercise, Matt the Husband has caught his first urine sample, Grace has been entertained, and the neighbours can go back to watching the soaps without the interruption of shrieks and whoops from the garden.
Job Done.
As for D-W, keep your fingers crossed she can keep her legs crossed. She keep wetting the bed so we're having the Vets do a work up.
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