It was confirmed last night, Lixo was poisoned and found dead along the road.

He was about two years old, and gave me two years of happiness, and a few scratches.

He was a constant companion, I couldn’t so much as poo without him, and as a faithful toilet attendant, he never expected a tip, just a good scratch behind the ears.

He was dumped in the praça, along with another kitten, when he was about eight weeks old. The owner of the botequim saw a guy drive up and get a sack from the trunk and empty two kittens in the bushes like rubbish and drive away.

It was the next night I saw him in the bar, and after a petting he followed me home where I fed him and plonked him on the spare sofa. He decided to stay. I named him Lixo, because lixo is Portuguese for rubbish; one man’s rubbish is another man’s treasure.

Lixo was a treasure.