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Oh, but no one else actually wanted Samson, even my Mom, who was convinced that if she didn't have four boys to protect her, he'd be able to drag her into the woods. He was muscle, scars, and attitude. Biker gangs gave him right-of-way.
It warmed my heart to see dog-walkers have to cross to the other side of the street, because Poochie-poo simply refused to cross in front of our house when Samson was in residence.
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