I snorted at my pre-dawn anxiety. What was I, two?
Rufus loped ahead, sniffing here and there. Twenty yards into the forest, thirty from my porch, he froze before the dead-leafed top of a cottonwood tree, snapped off by a storm's winds. His hackles rose.
“What ya got there, Rufus?”
Snagged in the fallen tree's branches were several coarse hairs, long and thick.
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