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April 27, 2007
Faith sighs with contentment when we stroke her belly: a deep gut breath, like a master yogi. When she gets wet in the rain, she bangs her head again my knees, half head butt, half rubdown. When we first got her, she refused to walk in the rain, and we would drag her, all 68 pounds, into the inclement weather. She is still not a rain dog, but now, thanks to her rain capes, one olive, one sky blue, she tolerates the damp, looking a little like an English nanny as she trots through the storm: Mary Pit Bull Poppins.