Dedicated to the memory of Dingle, who was the model for Rufus.. He died on 30th September, 2005, aged 15. He was a joy - bossy, affectionate, funny, inquisitive and occasionally silly - and hopefully will continue to live in these stories.

It was the best place, under the kitchen table, Rufus thought, curled on the plump cushion which had been placed for him. The bigger hobbits slipped him items of food and the little ones dropped choice bits and pieces. The very small ones ate sloppy food but it tasted good, even if it looked peculiar. Rufus was not particularly fussy. Rose was a good cook and his beloved Frodo cooked quite well and was generous with the titbits, as was kind-hearted Sam. Even Peregrin Took was quite happy to feed the cat bits of his dinner and no-one liked his food better than the young Took. Rufus considered himself to be a hobbity cat: he loved food and so did his family, and nothing which came his way was ever anything less than excellent. Sometimes the children joined him under the table for a cuddle. He did not mind, so long as they did not squeeze him. The babies were often clumsy but Frodo was very strict in teaching them how to stroke animals with due consideration. His dear master was a gentle soul who could not abide any living thing to suffer, and the little ones meant well. Nothing they did was out of malice.The smallest walking member of the family had generously shared his breakfast porridge with the cat that morning, and as this was made with cream it was delicious.

       Someone entered the kitchen and crouched to look under the table. It was Sam. Rufus liked the gentle gardener, who loved Frodo as much as he did, even if he did sometimes fuss over him too much. Sam stroked the cat's head and scratched gently behind the ears, exactly as Rufus liked. He began to purr, rumbling softly in his throat until his whole body was vibrating with happiness.

       Then again, perhaps the best place was under the eiderdown on Frodo's bed on winter nights, tucked against his legs or back. When his master had been very ill Rufus had done his best to provide some warmth for that chilled and frail body, although he knew to avoid the painful scars. The one on the left shoulder was once a very bad thing, always cold and full of something which made the cat want to hiss and run away. It was caused by something very evil, and a little piece of it was still there. Then Frodo had become very ill and everyone in the house was crying. The scar opened and all the bad things came out, and after many weeks when Frodo hovered between the worlds of the living and the dead, his tender-hearted master had awoken and recovered. Now the bed was warm and Rufus liked to snuggle. Frodo would pat the bump beneath the quilt and Rufus would make a little noise, a 'Brrrrrrrpppp' of greeting. On frosty mornings it was pleasant to stretch and purr and sprawl under the cosy quilt, with Frodo stroking his head and talking softly.

       Perhaps the perfect place was the garden. This was where Sam worked, planting sweet-smelling flowers to please Master Frodo. The young lad worked alongside his father, as he too was a gardener and loved all living things.There were fragrant corners, shady spots and places where a cat could sun himself in peace. There were squirrels to think about, although he would ignore the embarrassing incident when a squirrel threw acorns at him. The family still laughed about what they called the 'squirrel incident.' (Mind you, there was a mysterious event with which they teased Pippin Took, known as the 'goat incident,' so Rufus did not feel quite so victimised).  There were butterflies to chase during the day and bats and moths to watch at night. He had never managed to catch a bat, but it was not for want of trying. The cheeky little mice with wings were over-confident and one day one of them would make a mistake, and when they did, he would be ready.

       The parlour was nice too. Apparently one of his ancestors, Frodo's first kitten, had once climbed up the chimney and brought down lots of soot. Rufus privately thought his longfather must have been several fillets short of a salmon to attempt such an act. There was nothing comfortable about a chimney, particularly if it was full of soot. Besides, that sort of escapade resulted in the worst thing of all - a bath! Rufus has been bathed once in his life and it was not an experience he wanted to repeat. Soap suds, water and the indignity of being reduced to a bundle of bedraggled fluff. One of the Took aunts had two little lapdogs who were bathed all the time, and she trilled that they loved it! Rufus snorted. Dogs were such foolish creatures, fawning over everyone, making a lot of horrid noise and allowing their owners to tie silly bows in their hair and primp them about for hours. Cats had more sense! Not that Master Frodo tried things like that. He often said that a cat should be allowed to be a cat, and Rufus thought Frodo a very wise and unusually intelligent creature.

       Occasionally he condescended to recline on the couch and be bandaged if Ellie and little Rosie were playing healers. They were gentle and kind and brought him food, so he would tolerate their ministrations for a while until boredom set in, when he would hop down and streak for the door. His nurses were philosophical about this, as their Uncle Frodo had taught them that the game was over when Rufus said so.

       He enjoyed sitting in the branches of the oak tree on sunny days, swaying very slightly in the breeze and watching the comings and goings to New Row and Bag End. Below, in the garden, Sam would be working, whistling or singing as he did so. Down the hill he could see Sam's sister May hanging out her washing at No.3 New Row, and the children playing in the lane. If one of the family went into Hobbiton, Rufus would watch for their return and climb down to see what was in the basket. There was always something for him - some ground beef or a fish.

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       The cat curled up with his tail round his nose. The lavender bushes rustled around him as he closed his eyes and prepared to doze. Later he would go into the kitchen and rub round Mistress Rose, who would scold him lightly for tripping her, and fill his bowl with food. Everywhere was nice, he thought, and the perfect place was wherever he happened to be at the time