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  • Bilbo is my three-legged ragbag bundle of black fur, torn ears and snores curled on a cushion under the kitchen radiator. That’s his favourite place and from there he glares at the comings and goings of the house humans with the studied grumpy, belligerence that can only be successfully achieved by an old, old, old cat.

    I lean down and tickle the secret place behind his right ear where his fourth leg used to reach. Bilbo collapses in to purrs and licks my arm.

    I love him so
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