Jeff looked down at his father’s dog, Pippy. He still thought of Pippy as his father’s dog, even though his father had died a year ago and Pippy had lived with Jeff ever since. Jeff had tried to find her another home, but nobody wanted a dog that bit.
Maybe it was time to bring Pippy to the shelter. They would either find someone willing to take Pippy or euthanize her—Jeff didn’t like to think about that, but had to recognize the possibility.
Or maybe it was time to accept that Pippy was now HIS dog, and his dog bites.
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