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“Chris looked at the dog, who has finished feasting on her foot and now comes to sit at his feet, looking up at him as if she expects him to do something. She's leggier than most classic English bulldogs, mostly a dark fawn color, but with a large white patch over one eye. She has those droopy bulldog eyes that can look, by turns, sad and judgmental. But now she stands and cocks her head and wags her tail, and Chris finds himself smiling, begrudgingly, and patting the sofa cushion Beth just vacated. "All right, up you come." The dog hops up, and Chris begins scratching her behind one ear. "You going to put up with me?" he asks. She grunts and leans into his hand.” — Brianne Moore
Chris looked at the dog, who has finished feasting on her foot and now comes to sit at his feet, looking up at him as if she expects him to do something. She's leggier than most classic English bulldogs, mostly a dark fawn color, but with a large white patch over one eye. She has those droopy bulldog eyes that can look, by turns, sad and judgmental. But now she stands and cocks her head and wags her tail, and Chris finds himself smiling, begrudgingly, and patting the sofa cushion Beth just vacated.
"All right, up you come." The dog hops up, and Chris begins scratching her behind one ear.
"You going to put up with me?" he asks. She grunts and leans into his hand.