The Flood

'On your mark... get ready... get set... go!' The corgi wagged its stump of a tail but didn't get up. He was too old for chasing games now. 'Come on Yogi,' Nell called. 'Come on.' The dog lifted his head from his paws and snapped lazily at a fly. 'You're no fun any more,' she said and stomped off. Nell wandered into the cake shop where her mother was cleaning out the pie heater. 'Mum, there's nothing to do. I've got no one to play with and even Yogi won't play chasings. He's too old.' 'Ja, we all get old, Nell,' her Dutch mother said, sighing as she reached down under the counter for the window spray and a soft cloth. 'You can go and clean the front window. That's something to do.'