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We hold our dogs so close that parts of ourselves overflow and fall directly onto their furry heads. So when we look at our dogs we see our worst sorrows, our greatest joys and the deepest part of ourselves for which there is no name.
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Back in the 1980s, my mother went through an extended Pretty Shiny Things phase. She had a magpie’s eye and a curator’s taste for the bright bauble, and she collected some of the most beautiful things: precious and semi-precious stones of all kinds, set in jewelry or carved or cut or made into a… 628 more words