We're enriching our pets' lives we say, but my husband is not convinced, writes Jo Malone
The gorgeous man Rob is not happy.
Thalia has put Snowflake and Moonlight in a cardboard box, attached a piece of string and is pulling them around the house.
The pair, her guinea pigs, don't seem to mind. She's given them windows and a little terrace. They've got some hay, a carrot and, for some Thalia reason, a face veil from her Aladdin's Jasmine outfit.
They're peeking out looking quite interested at the changing view from the bathroom through the hall to the kitchen and back and then off to the lounge.
I do have to stop her showing me how much quicker their box will spin on the bathroom tiles compared to the hall carpet as I think they'll feel a bit giddy. But Rob's not impressed. I know that at any moment he's going to mutter 'Remember Angel and that bike' a reference to the time number one daughter and I had been talking about how I used to put our cats in my dolls pram when I was little. They didn't stay in, even if I tried to pin them down with one hand as I pushed the pram with the other. This led to us somehow deciding that her rabbit, Angel, who didn't reflect her name in any way - being a particularly grumpy and feisty bunny - might enjoy a ride in Sunny's bike basket.
We thought she'd sit happily with her front paws on the top of the basket, peering around with interest as Sunny pedalled around the park. We thought it might cheer her up as maybe she was bored only having the run of the garden.
It didn't. She hated it, a lot. We promised Rob we'd never do it again.
But littlest daughter's travel system is nowhere near so elaborate. Snowflake and Moonlight look reasonably happy in the box and Thalia is being very gentle and is an excellent tour guide (wish she wouldn't point out the ironing pile on every lap though).
But Rob thinks it's silly, mean, unnecessary, unhygienic and they shouldn't be indoors at all. Their cage has recently come back into the dining room from outdoors as it's far too chilly outside for them. Rob mostly tolerates this but every now and then, like today, he has a minor rant about it.
I'm disputing all this, quite well, until Rob spots a damp streak coming from the bottom of the box as they're towed from the kitchen to the hall.
Rob does some shouting. We put the guinea pigs back in their cage.
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