Monday morning. Frimousse would have written :

It is raining.

On Saturday morning, the sun was shining. My Mistress went running for about an hour, downthere, on the lakeside. My Master went with her. They locked me in the house, with my friend RouXy – both of them would not have left if RouXy had not been in the house too.

Yesterday it rained practically all day. During the Saturday to Sunday night, the Master of Jump – the son of my Master, the dad of the little Masters of Jump – ran Saintélyon. A race that starts in Saint-Etienne at midnight and arrives in Lyon “some” hours later. It took him ten hours and a half. Rain, mud and cold. He is very satisfied. Therefore my Mistress decided to go for a run at about 2 in the afternoon, in the rain – which is very rare. No problem since I, Frimousse, and my friend RouXy, were sleeping in front of the stove.

My Master says that it is necessary to enjoy life before the inevitable civil war if 80 % of sensible people continue to support a handful of [expletive deleted]. Fortunately, I shall not live that, below my grass, in my garden.

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