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October 26, 2017
I only wanted to smoosh her dog and move along, but here I am in her apartment, 3-1/2 hours later, listening to stories of romance with a man from Rome, the bitchiness of old high school cronies, and a few tales of physical woes, the dog in the other room (not quite trusting me inside her sanctuary despite obvious trust outdoors that astounded her mom). She's alone but not lonely, she says, and I believe her. Her dog is her life, and I believe her. And best of all, not once did I think she was going to murder me.