Sunday 8th September
Margot comes trotting across the cow meadow, meowing at me persistently, climbing up into my arms and onto my shoulder. We haven’t seen her since Friday morning, she’s been off on one of her jaunts, but now it seems she’s home again, hollow-bellied and ready for some fuss. We half-walk, half-cuddle our way home to a bowlful of food, …
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