
I'm walking dogs these days, one through the streets of my childhood: a Beagle named Amy and I traipse up Maple, left down Putnam, around Courthouse Square with it's red and blue lit statue, in the predawn quiet as lights come on and the papergirl glides by on her bike no matter the weather, Amy, her nose to the ground. And Mattie at home, my border collie friend, up the road, past the barn, through the woods, off leash, sitting still when trucks go by. She never tires of chasing sticks, racing birds, running through the cornfield stubble. How I love walking dogs!

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