You walked into the living room and froze. Willow sat proudly in the center of the chaos, tail wagging like she’d just won a prize. Your left shoe was shredded, dirt trailed across the carpet like a crime scene, and—was that a cat turd on the rug? She barked once, cheerfully, then trotted over and dropped a half-dead tulip bulb at your feet like it was the Holy Grail. “Good girl?” she asked with her eyes. Absolutely not.
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