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Updated: 05/11/2014 06:52:02PM

Forget humans, it’s a dog’s life

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Joe Giorgianni

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When I was growing up in the Midwest, we always had a dog, sometimes more than one. They always stayed outside, usually in a doghouse made by either my brother or myself.

It had the dog’s name over the opening and usually a chain that could pull large logs with a tractor. If a dog got sick, we would simply open its mouth, throw a tablespoon of table salt down its throat, and stand back.

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