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August 4, 2012
“I think Rusty needs more flowers.” It was Janet who was talking. She had brought an armload of daisies from her yard and arranged them in an oval around the dog’s body. Olivia had already fashioned a funereal bed in the wagon using dark green throw pillows from her bedroom and the brown blanket from the hall closet -- the one Aunt Jessie used when she spent the night on the couch. Rusty appeared to be asleep, curled up on the pillows and blanket just as Olivia had found her early that morning in her bed by the kitchen door.