Dog snarled and picked up his garden shears.

            “You’ve had these for weeks. They’re mine. I need them to trim the hedges. How ungrateful. How ungrateful you are when I lend you my nice, fine things.”

            I scratched my left hand.

            “You’re right you’re sorry,” he continued. “Look at this shrub. It’s unbalanced and all out, it’s everywhere. I need to trim it right now,” which Dog did.

            “I’m sorry, Dog. Dog. I’m sorry. I’m sorry Dog. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I did all that I did.”

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