I am not a dog person. I believe dogs to be evil and that their loyalty is suspect. That's how they get you, you know. First it's the puppy dog eyes to melt your heart and lower guard. Then, it's the old betray-them-because-I'm-a-dog routine. My wife doesn't believe me for a second and thinks that I'm just making it up.
One day, back in the dark years of somewhere between 2003-2005, there was a terrible rainstorm. The rainstorm wasn't the worst I'd seen, but it wasn't too pleasant. My brother had a friend over. They had been hanging out outside. They saw the weather turn and quickly hurried in. My brother had left something outside, so he ventured back out. He returned quickly, fairly wet.
Around this time, my brother's friend pointed out, "Hey Mo, there's a dog in the house." The dog was a retriever, the golden sort. He casually strolled through the living room and into the bedrooms before turning back. Our cats were not enthused at the intruder. Then, the dog returned outside and wandered out.
That was pretty weird.
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