It's 3 a.m. There's a fly buzzing around the bedroom. Brio, my faithful dog, is convinced I'm in mortal peril and it's his job to protect me from this lethal intruder. He's lunging at it. Crawling under the nightstand after it. Draping himself on my chest to stay between it and me. Then around my shoulders like a stole. And when I pushed him off, he crawled under my head to act as my pillow. I suspect I won't be getting back to sleep tonight.
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