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How the Tables Have Turned

Mostly True Memoirs

Oh, how the tables have turned.

We were in the midst of a major rainstorm.

It had been gray and rainy all morning, but suddenly it turned pitch dark.

The wind began to howl.

And the rain started pelting in sideways.

My little dog was freaking out.

My last dogs were German Shepherds.

They would have stood guard to protect me, barking at the storm.

But not my little Wrigley.

She was trembling in fear, burying her snout in the crook of my elbow.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

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