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The dogs rule the roost

I’m baby-sitting my boyfriend’s two dogs this week while he is working in northern Manitoba.

“The boys” and I are on a learning curve—and I’m aghast to admit that I am the student and not the teacher (at least not yet).

“Pepe” is a short off-white (needs a bath) wire-haired stubborn little mastermind who can hear a bread crumb drop to the floor in the kitchen but was rendered completely deaf when I released him to outside without a leash to pee, wherein he raced off chasing the illusive nothing and ignored my constant bellow of, “Come back here this instant!”

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