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April 24, 2007
I donít believe that dogs live only in the moment, or that they have no memory. Faith has a sense of history, and she holds grudges. A month will pass since weíve walked down a particular street, and her hackles will rise as we pass a certain second story window that long ago held two crazed Boston terriers who would fling themselves against the glass in Faith hatred. And yet: Faithís dragged me down the street in pursuit of Frank, the large black guy who served as her shelterís assistant manager, and lovingly roughhoused with her. But itís never Frank.