In America, I am very much a dog person.Sadly, my host family's dog, Gary (which currently ranks among my favorite dog names ever), is terrified of me. When I come into the yard, he cowers in the corner of his sad little kennel shivering with fright, even when I bring treats and practice my dog-training-class tricks.
Hemingway, on the other hand, squeaks with joy when he sees me. This is mainly because he knows I'm always bearing something excellent from the kitchen: fresh herbs, carrots, apple slices.
For now, I'm a pig person.
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