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Tongue face.

Playful face.

Hopeful face.

Tired face.

Sad face.

About face.

Sweet face.

Debonair face.

HEY!!!

Jack: “I’m debonair….”

“…and dashing. I’m debonair and dashing! I have stories! Where’s my post?”

JACK! THIS IS NOT YOUR POST!
Coco! Jack’s trying to take your post!!! Remember your job, Coco? You’re in charge of the animals. Even Jack. You’re in charge, Coco!!! We have to keep them all in line. Under control. We’re in charge, Coco. You and me. We can’t start letting them tell us what to do!
Coco: “It’s okay. Jack can have my post.”

COCO!!

Coco and Dookie, oh high alert during another chicken invasion on the porch yesterday.
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"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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