I enjoyed the most blissful sleep for all but the first five minutes of the two-hour drive home. I’m not going to lie to you – enjoying the air conditioning in the car after some delicious ice cream, I was possibly the happiest I’ve been all weekend.  I may have snored like the lady I am, or thrashed around in a dream, but I wouldn’t have known. The phrase “dead to the world” has never been more appropriate.

On arriving home, we found that there had been a “cool change” and the temperature outside was down to 31C with even higher humidity. By the time I had finished unpacking, even my eyelids were sweating, and I could feel the tickly, trickly beads of most unladylike sweat running down my back.

Thankfully, my furbabies didn’t care how hot or sweaty or uncomfortable I was. As usual, my labrador Abbey nearly turned herself inside out with excitement and  some supercharged tail wagging. My tortoiseshell cat, Scout, sat on the end of the bed and talked to me as I unpacked and put things away.

When I finally sat in my comfy chair tonight, Scout leaped up onto my lap and cuddled into me as hard as she could. At that point, I didn’t care how hot I was either. When your cat loves you enough to welcome you home with happy cuddles and purring worthy of a poorly tuned Volkswagen Beetle, you cuddle her right back for all you’re worth. That’s what loving your furbaby is all about.

The cuddle only lasted a few minutes. Once we were both ridiculously, uncomfortably hot again, she jumped down and lay on the floor beside my chair, both of us enjoying the breeze from the fan.

She’s still purring loudly enough for me to hear her, fifteen minutes later. This kind of welcome really is one of the best things about coming home.