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I used to have a golden retriever who couldn’t bark on command.
He’d have to muster up all of his energy. It’d be a bunch of breathy whisper-barks before he built up the courage to let out a big-boy bark.
Poor Dexter. He was the bestest boy. Lymphoma took him at the young age of 7.
Dayum… Sorry for your loss
Broofs loudly in a suppressed manner
That’s a damn cute dawwg
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