Debbie Roth

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Groomed to her satisfaction, she moved a short distance away before tucking her paws under her on the carpet, lying by the cooling embers of the fire. Her leverets dozed—or sat lost in reverie—just a few feet away, in the other room. The house smelled faintly like digestive biscuits: the scent of hares.
Raising Hare: A Memoir
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