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January 28, 2012

It seems best to start at the beginning, yet that is not possible, as you will eventually understand.  There is, however a place.  It may even be useful.  I choose a place:  August 1, 2004.  The barking dog.  The barking dog was at it again that morning.  A barking dog.  Michael was in bed thinking of a toy he had gotten one Christmas, a stiff, stuffed, battery-operated thing with a little red switch.  It barked and bounced when he turned it on.  Within a few days the batteries wore out, and he subsequently lost the dog in the toy box.