There is a significant difference in tone between my morning and evening bluff outings.
My trip to the bluffs in the morning tends to be solitary and brief, with the sole purpose of excretion before returning home for breakfast.
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By contrast, my afternoon migration is broadly social and open-ended. After sometimes stopping off to visit my friend Willy, I fall into what historian Howard Kern calls the 'canine convoy' making its way westward to the bluffs like some great wave of manifest destiny.
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