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Oh Scout, I hate to love you. You showed up a mere weeks before my wedding with your brothers, half-starved and nearly frozen, and slept curled up underneath my chin those first nights back, crawling and inching forward until you couldn't get any higher than smothering-me-height. My mom thought you were a coyote (???).
Your primary talent is biting the heck out of tires on cars driving at ten miles an hour. It's a good thing you don't have a bank account because you'd owe me at least $1,000 in new rubber.
Secondary talent: licking the Squirt until he's a mewling, squealing fuss-bucket.
Clan Donaldson has more animals this week for Theme Thursday!