He aggravated me in the mornings whistling for outdoor freedom. Awaiting the tiniest bit of scrappy crumbs, he impolitely stared hard as I ate anything. Even foods that wouldn't interest him like chocolate, fruits, and vegetables. Only once had I seen him ever consume an orange carrot. He strangely howled along with the ambulance trucks, gnawed nosily at the fleas on his back and tail, and at times he barked for no reason at all. But he was a very good buddy. The friendliest, most sweetest, most lovable pal anyone could ask for, especially from a woman who feared dogs her entire life. When I first met Meano, a huge, gorgeous, mixed breed dog, six years ago, I pleaded for him to be put outside every time I came over. Gradually, after a few hesitant pets on the head and the occasional lap humping that male dogs love to do, we became good friends. In the vast, opened backyard where the big protector roamed free with lively, exuberant energy, I would watch him growl and chase strangers...
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