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Saturday, forty minutes of silence, then Biscuit returned from the flower bed as ninety percent mud and one hundred percent pleased. This gives that entrance the cinematography it deserves: same dog, same mud, same shameless grin — shot low and huge like the arrival of something from the deep, heavy drops mid-fall, one paw forward, doorway light behind him. My wife screamed twice: at the dog, then at the picture. Tweak: 'add the second dog in the doorway, clean and appalled.'

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