There’s this dog.

There’s this dog named Dexter. He’s my boy. I just never thought the meaning of the contraction would change so soon.

Dexter’s My Boy

There’s this dog.

One day about 10 years ago my wife, Cassi, called from work to say there was an ad on the internal classified board. A woman was giving away a dog, still a puppy, really, not quite a year old. She contacted the owner to learn more. He was a good boy, the woman said, but her husband didn’t like him. The husband had not been kind.

The dog was in his kennel all day long while she was at work, got out for about an hour in the evening but never much more because of the husband. He was spending more than 22 hours a day in that kennel.

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