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September 26, 2007
Ben arrives home some time around 7 AM, awake but exhausted. He finds me near the window, in my skivvies but wrapped in a buffalo afghan. The window is open, and Iíve been there most of the night. The clouds finally purged, a steady stream of raindrop emesis keeping me company much of the night. He approaches wordlessly and tucks my head into his soft underbelly, stroking my matted hair. I think Brutus has been barking for a while, I say, but this is only a guess. Iíll call and let them know you wonít be in today, he says.