He stumbled slightly, the limp in his leg still there. He dared not to look at the place he used to call home. He could feel the heat from the fire, the fire that he himself had ignited. He blinked back tears, as he limped away.
There was nothing he enjoyed more than a good book. He'd wander into the study, take down some leather-bound volume, and eat it. — Terence Brady (dog owner)
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