I’m scooping fresh cat litter into my refillable jug at the pet store when the two of them walk by. He actually runs by, a small wire-haired terrier, followed by his owner, and they both go to the chew aisle where he stands looking up at her expectantly.
“Well, go ahead and pick one,” she says, where upon he very carefully begins looking in each bin, carefully considering his options until he finally, gingerly, grabs a rawhide bully stick almost as big as himself and drags it over to his person.
“Well, if you’re sure,” she says, picking him up, and he wags his tail enthusiastically.
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