Pitter. Patter. Pitter, pat.
It had been raining ever since Pigúiça woke up. It rained on the garden, it rained on the roof, it rained on the red ball left out in the yard. Even the clouds of Dogavios, which always smiled, looked like they had a lot of work to do.
“When is it going to stop?” asked Pigúiça, her nose pressed against the glass.
“When the clouds finish watering everything,” said Fofuxo, lying on the rug.
“And when will they finish?”
“When they're done.”
Pigúiça huffed. She walked to the door. She walked back to the window. She walked to the door again. She lay down on her back with all four paws in the air. “I'm bored. There's nothing to do when it rains. Nothing at all.”
Just then, a huge green shadow appeared outside. Tap, tap, went a giant claw on the glass. It was Dracao, soaking wet from head to tail, his wings drooping like a broken umbrella.
“Sorry to bother you,” he said, very softly, a little shy. “May I wait out the rain here on your porch?”
He was much too big to come inside. So Pigúiça and Fofuxo opened the window, and Dracao rested his chin on the windowsill, dripping. Pigúiça brought her blanket and dried the tip of his nose, which was the only part that fit.
“Dracao, do you know any rainy-day games?” asked Pigúiça.
He thought about it. “Raindrop races. Everybody picks a drop on the window. Whichever one gets to the bottom first wins.”
Pigúiça picked a chubby drop. Fofuxo picked a skinny one. Dracao picked the biggest one of all. The drops slid down crooked, stopped, joined up with other drops, and then suddenly zipped away. Everyone cheered and shouted. After that, they found shapes in the clouds: a bunny, a pie, a shoe. And Dracao got so happy that he started to glow, all lit up, and the gray living room turned green and gold.
When the rain finally stopped, Pigúiça went out into the yard. The puddles reflected the pink sky, and up above, the clouds were smiling again, with tired, happy little faces. Dracao said goodbye with a grin and flew home, dripping sparkles.
That night, the rain came back, but gently now. Pitter... patter... pat... Pigúiça listened from her bed. It sounded like someone singing her to sleep. Pitter... patter... And she fell asleep.
