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the squared blanket and the lamp. “Is that for the next one?” I asked.
“I have a call in to the county shelter,” he said. “Fourteen-year-old beagle. Heartworm history, some arthritis. They haven’t been able to place her.”
Of course he did.
“You couldn’t mention any of this to your son?” I asked.
He gave me the look he used when I was a teenager making continue reading …
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