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"You never heard such a foofaraw as the time Toby McGonagle liberated that pack of noisy pooches from the dog catcher's dray. Right in front of the pound, too, by gum. There were big dogs, little dogs, spotted dogs, handsome hounds and ugly feists, pedigreed pups and mangy mutts. There were pointers and setters and breeds that don't exist running lickity-split down Elm Street. It was a sight to behold and all because Homer Higgins, the dog catcher, got his head on backwards over that pretty blonde with the red and blue parasol. The aldermen should never have passed a law making local canines wear collars and licenses. Hell fire, some of those animals were town dogs, good old boys who hung around Zeke's General Store looking for handouts. They didn't belong to anybody. Toby's pa tanned his hide, you can be sure of that. But the story has a happy ending. Toby grew up to be dog catcher himself. He's still picking up strays, buying 'em licenses and turning them loose. Toby always did like dogs." (Published by Scott Arts Graphics)
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