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September 26, 2007
And then it was my birthday, my fifth, and Battleship was still beside me when I woke. His green eyes slit and a slow, deliberate purr as he watched me scratch my head. When I kicked my feet out he curled his face under his tail and resolved to sleep. I shimmied into clothes, proud to remember underwear and socks first. Then I flopped by Battleship and felt the fineness of him, his tiny nose, one tiny paw, until my mother knocked and entered with her smell and her smile. “Good morning, birthday girl! Are you excited? Ready for presents?”