Like the queen, my fat cat Billie has two birthdays. I'm not really sure when her 'proper' birthday is, but nine years ago today, on a Saturday morning, Claire went off in our old Nissan while I cleaned up, hoovered and smoked my first phat one of the day. She returned an hour later with a very nervous, remarkably slim (considering her current girth), but very lovely Billie Bobbins. And there has only, really been one female in my life since.
Billie was 9 months old and although she hadn't been cruelly treated, she had spent a large part of those 9 months alone and she was a bit of a nervous wreck. She was ballsy though, god was she ballsy, she had occupied Iggy's bed inside an hour and eaten most of the food we'd put down for the pair of them inside two. It was about a month before she would sit on my lap and probably six months before she'd comfortably sleep there or pad, but she became my little buddy, my shadow.
Happy birthday baby.