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Weekly Contest #34
I used to think the best day of my life was right at the start. Not the day I was born because I don’t remember that, of course. It was the day Mom and Dad took me Home. I had spent a couple of months in a smelly cardboard box with my siblings, squirming around sightless and confused. My only goal each day was to get a couple sucks of milk from the big dog, which looking back with the knowledge of Beggin Strips, hardly seems worth the trouble. By the time I could see and stand, though, Mom and Dad were there to rescu...
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