My childhood pet was my hero and saviour. He was all love from those dark liquid eyes, a pure soul I was so blessed to bond with. He was the littlest dog in statue, in our neighbourhood anyway, but in heart he was a giant. He was that excited love when I came home, that sweet cuddle when it was the thing I craved the most. He was my buddy and for that I will forever be grateful and hold his memory as a treasure.
In those days we had a cat, Cuddles, such a bad name for him the way he turned out. Cuddles had mangled ears and scars before he turned two years old. His approach to life was to try to be the king of the castle or die trying. His whole life from kitten-hood he stalked the surrounding neighbourhood, muscular, almost skinny. Not once did I ever see that feline flinch, no matter what noise was going on. The only time he ever earned his name was when he found Grace sitting in the garden and he would curl onto her lap - but only her. I can't tell you how special that made her feel, how happy. She would tell everyone he was her cat with a pride the eyes can't hide.
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