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⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜
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⢣⢽⣢⣑⢢⡹⢀⠆⡡⡘⡰⢀⢏⠰⡈⢆⢡⠒⣸⢇⣒⣐⢆⣒⡰⣂⡒⣔⢢⠼⣿⣿⣦⣆⣡⣊⡴⣈⣒⡌⣦⣑⢢⡜⣐⢢⣑⢢⡜⡰⣌⢢⣑⣊⡤⣃⣌⡲⣄⢣⡚⣤⢓⡳⣄ ⢇⢮⡱⣹⣿⣟⠠⢊⠔⡱⢠⠃⣎⠰⣁⠎⡄⢣⠸⣙⢮⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣍⢳⡹⢬⡙⣧⠽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⠹⡜⡵⣩⢎⡵⣩⢣⡹⣩⢻⣿⣿ ⣭⢲⡱⣹⣿⣯⢐⡉⢆⡱⢂⠱⢌⠒⣄⠊⡔⢡⠺⡥⡳⡜⣽⣿⣯⣿⣿⣽⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⠻⢿⣿⣿⣥⣣⠝⣮⡙⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⡿⣟⣿⣇⢫⣝⡲⡱⢎⡵⣃⢧⡓⣥⢫⣿⣿ ⢎⢧⡱⣹⣿⡷⢠⠊⡔⠤⣉⠒⡬⢡⢦⣃⡜⡠⢳⡀⢷⡩⢾⣿⣟⣯⣿⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣷⣮⢰⡍⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣏⠞⣆⢡⠑⡌⡸⢀⠆⡩⢄⠹⣿⣿ ⡚⢦⡓⣽⣿⣟⠠⢃⠬⡑⢌⠢⣑⠂⣿⣿⣷⣦⣱⠌⣧⠓⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣞⣿⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣻⣿⣽⣮⡙⠦⢌⠒⡌⠱⡈⢆⠱⡈⠼⣿⣿ ⣙⢦⡹⢼⣿⣯⠐⡃⢆⡉⠦⡑⢬⠡⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣮⣙⣾⣟⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⢀⣀⣀⣀⡈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⢧⡙⠧⢌⠒⡌⠱⡈⢆⠱⡈⠼⣿⣿ ⡎⣶⢩⡞⣿⣷⠈⣴⢡⠘⢰⠁⣧⠂⢹⣿⣿⡏⠛⣿⣿⣿⣾⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠙⣦⣽⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣯⣿⣾⣧⠋⡗⠈⠒⡌⢱⠈⡆⢱⡌⢸⣿⣿ ⡜⢦⢫⢼⣿⡷⠘⡄⢎⠱⢢⠑⣎⠘⡄⣿⣿⣷⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣿⣿⡿⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⡏⡞⡥⢉⠆⡱⢌⠒⡌⢒⠌⣸⣿⣿ ⡜⣣⢝⣺⣿⣟⢘⠰⣈⠚⣄⠃⡾⢈⡔⣹⣿⣿⡆⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⡀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣾⣿⣿⣿⡿⣟⣷⣿⣻⣿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣿⢧⡹⣅⠊⡔⢡⢂⡱⢈⠜⡢⢰⣿⣿ ⣜⡱⢎⣼⣿⣯⢈⠖⠤⡙⢄⠣⣹⠂⡜⢸⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⣀⣀⡀⠀⠙⠿⣿⡿⠟⠉⠁⢰⣴⣿⡿⠿⠿⢿⣽⣿⣿⣿⣻⣿⣷⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣇⠳⣆⠱⡈⢆⠢⠰⣁⠚⠤⢱⣿⣿ ⢦⡙⢮⢼⣿⡷⢨⡘⢤⠩⠜⡰⡑⠎⣌⢱⢺⣿⡿⠓⠋⠉⠉⠉⠙⡶⠚⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠙⢿⣿⣿⣷⣿⣯⣿⣿⣿⣿⣭⢓⡎⠰⡁⢎⠰⡁⢆⡉⢆⢱⣿⣿ ⡲⣙⢎⡾⢿⡛⠤⣘⠢⣉⠲⢡⡙⡰⢌⠢⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣷⣿⣻⣽⣿⣿⣿⣧⢣⢏⠰⡁⠎⡰⢉⠆⡸⢀⠮⡿⢿ ⡵⢫⡍⢦⡡⢞⡐⢢⡑⠤⡙⢄⢳⡐⢪⢁⢻⣄⣀⣀⣤⣶⣿⣿⠟⠛⠓⢦⣄⠀⠀⠐⢿⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣿⣿⣿⣟⣿⣾⣿⣿⣷⢚⡖⣳⠚⡵⣊⠶⣱⢓⢮⡰⢤ ⣏⠵⣊⠶⡱⣍⠲⠡⠜⡠⢍⠂⢧⠘⢢⡉⠆⡍⣿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢷⡄⠀⣸⣧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣿⣿⡿⣯⣿⣿⣽⣿⣧⣚⠥⣛⠴⢣⡙⣆⢫⢆⡳⢊ ⡙⣞⡱⢾⣵⣮⠡⡙⢢⠱⢨⠘⡥⠙⡄⢎⠱⢄⢻⣿⣿⣿⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣀⣠⡿⠶⡍⠘⣶⣶⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⣿⣿⢿⣿⣾⣿⣻⣿⣿⣾⣶⣿⣶⣷⣾⣷⣾⣾⣷ ⡵⣎⡷⣫⢏⡷⢐⢩⢂⠣⠱⡘⢦⢉⠲⢌⠒⡬⢸⣿⣿⣿⡀⠀⢀⣠⡴⠞⢻⣿⣿⠀⠙⣄⠘⢿⣿⣿⡄⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⣿⣿⣿⣽⣿⣷⣿⠿⠟⠋⠁⠙⢯⣯⡽⣩⣟⡼⣫⢽⣹ ⣏⢷⡹⢧⡻⣼⠈⢆⡱⢊⠱⣈⠖⡨⠱⣈⠵⣢⡿⠟⠛⣿⣧⣶⡏⣁⣤⣶⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠹⣄⠀⠙⠿⠧⠤⠤⠶⠋⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠉⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠻⣷⡹⣬⢳⣭⠻⣜ ⣛⢮⣛⢧⣛⠶⡉⠆⢆⠣⡘⡄⢫⡐⡑⣦⡾⠋⠀⠀⠀⠘⣿⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⠀⠀⠀⠘⠳⣤⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣗⣫⢞⡽⣹ ⡽⢮⣝⡮⣝⡳⢡⣉⣦⠷⠛⠛⠛⠛⣿⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠘⢯⠙⠻⣿⣿⣿⣿⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠓⠶⢤⣄⣠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢞⣮⢳⢧ ⣟⡽⢮⡽⣭⣛⣴⠛⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢘⣷⣶⣬⣷⡄⠀⠉⠉⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⣼⣿⡆⡆⢀⡴⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⣾⣿⣎⠷ ⡎⢹⢇⡹⣆⢹⡏⠀⠀⠀⢀⣰⣾⡿⢷⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⣷⡉⡾⢿⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡾⠁⢀⣿⠇⢹⡾⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⣿⣿⣿⣏ ⠼⢣⠮⡱⢎⠧⡐⠤⣤⣴⣫⣿⠟⠁⣸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⠧⡹⠾⡽⣷⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡴⠋⣠⡴⡿⠋⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠹⠿⠿⠟ ⢌⠃⠆⠑⠊⠔⣡⠚⣄⣿⠛⠁⠀⠀⣇⣀⡴⠀⠀⡔⠀⢰⣿⠰⡑⢆⠱⣈⢿⡷⣄⡀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠞⣋⡴⢞⣗⡩⠄⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠋⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠐⠈⠁⠈⠀⠐⠀⠄ ⢢⠍⠀⠀⠀⢀⣦⣱⠿⠉⠁⡀⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣶⣾⣇⠀⠈⢿⣷⣜⡢⡑⠤⢊⠻⣆⠙⠛⠻⠿⠒⢋⡥⠔⠋⠁⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⢠⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠂⠀⠀⠀⢀⣿⣷⠿⣤⣀⠀⠘⢆⠀⠀⠀⠘⢿⣿⣿⣷⣄⠀⣿⠌⠛⠷⣌⡱⢂⡙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣠⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡏⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠂⠀⠀⠀⣼⣿⢏⣶⡼⠿⢷⣤⣈⠂⠀⠀⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⣿⣿⣯⡀⠀⠀⠉⠳⣵⢌⠦⠿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢂⠄⠀⢠⡿⣻⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠓⢦⣀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣦⡀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣎⠔⣈⠻⣆⠀⢠⠞⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡞⠁⠀⠀⠀⢀⣴⡞⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠐⠂⠀ ⠎⠐⣰⡟⡱⡟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠳⣄⠀⠀⠀⠙⣿⣿⣿⣿⣿⣷⣄⡀⠀⠙⢧⡦⠕⠬⣿⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣰⠏⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡎⠎⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⣱⡟⠤⣹⣿⠀⠀⢠⣤⣤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣦⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⢷⣭⡛⢿⣿⣿⣦⣄⠈⠳⣄⡴⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠸⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⣿⠘⡤⠙⡼⣦⠀⠈⢻⣿⣿⡧⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠂⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠻⢷⣺⣿⣿⣿⣿⣶⣭⡠⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡷⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠙⠧⣤⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠘⣧⡙⠤⡋⢔⡙⢷⣄⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢠⡟⢤⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠉⠛⠿⣿⣿⣿⡟⠣⣀⣀⣀⣀⣠⡴⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⢿⣜⡡⢚⡰⢈⠦⣉⠳⢦⣄⣀⣀⣀⣠⠾⠋⠀⠀⠉⠓⠦⢄⣀⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⡰⠚⢻⣁⣀⡈⣳⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⡠⠖⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠈⢿⣧⡃⠴⣉⠒⠤⣉⠦⢈⡍⠭⣭⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠉⠑⠒⠲⠶⠶⠦⠦⠶⠶⠖⠂⢻⡄⠨⣤⣂⣴⣿⠉⠷⣄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠖⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠈⢿⡻⣶⣠⢉⡒⢅⠪⠔⣈⡶⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⢈⡟⠀⠀⠀⠈⠛⠒⠒⣹⡟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⣿⡠⠿⣧⣸⠘⡄⡿⣟⣠⡤⠼⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣀⣀⡤⠤⠿⠟⠛⠛⠛⠻⣇⠀⢸⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠤⢀⣸⠟⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⢂⠌⢙⣷⠞⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣠⠴⠚⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠀⢸⡀⠀⠀⠀⡀⠤⠚⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⢀⠂⡄⢀⠀⣸⣇⣼⠟⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣴⠏⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡇⠘⣇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠈⠁⠈⠀⠀⠀⢹⡇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢀⣤⠴⠚⢻⡄⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣸⠁⠀⢘⣆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢳⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣧⠀⠀⠀⣰⡏⠀⠀⠀⢸⠇⠀⠀⠀⠀⢹⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡠⠈⠁⢀⠔⠋⠉⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⣷⣦⡤⢏⣀⣀⣤⡴⠋⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⢸⡆⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠂⠁⠀⠀⠀⠈⠀⠁⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠃⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠈⢧⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠘⣦⡀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⣧⠀⠀⢀⢀⠠⠀⠀⠈⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⡀⢀⢀⣀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠄⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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Her strongest memory was of the smell of rain on hot pavement. It was a scent that didn't just fill her nose but seemed to soak into her skin, bringing with it a sense of comfort she hadn't felt in a very long time. Bluey Heeler was a creature of the outdoors, a dog with a heart that pounded in sync with the vast wilderness she called home. Her fur, a blend of blue and gray, blended seamlessly with the shadows of the eucalyptus trees that stretched tall beside her family's modest house. Rainy days meant puddles to splash in and the rich scent of earth coming alive around her. But it had been a long time since she'd felt the cool kiss of rainwater on her snout. Now, Bluey was in the city, surrounded by the concrete jungle, a stark contrast to the boundless plains she'd once known. The smells here were overwhelming, a mishmash of exhaust fumes, fast food, and a million different creatures packed into a space so tight it made her feel claustrophobic. The noises were constant, a never-ending din that made her flinch and whine in the quiet moments of the night. Yet, amidst the chaos, she had found a purpose, a reason to push through the fear and confusion. Her new friend, named Mia, had taken her in, offering her a chance at a new life filled with love and companionship. Mia was as vibrant as the flowers she tended in the small patch of earth outside their apartment. Despite the stark difference in their sizes, they shared a bond that transcended the confines of the urban sprawl. Each day, Mia would take her on adventures through the parks, allowing her to feel the grass under her paws and chase the occasional squirrel up a tree. It wasn't the same as the open ranges she'd left behind, but it was a taste of freedom she hadn't known in weeks. One evening, as the two sat on the windowsill watching the rain dance in the streetlights, a distant howl echoed through the concrete valleys. It was faint, almost lost in the symphony of city sounds, but to Bluey, it was as clear as if it had come from right beside her. Her ears perked up, and she let out a soft whine, longing for the days when she could have joined the chorus. Mia looked at her, concern etched on her features. "What is it, girl?" she asked, her tail thumping against the sill as she tried to convey the ache in her soul. The howl grew stronger, more insistent, and suddenly, Bluey realized it wasn't just any howl. It was her sister, Bingo. The same melody that had serenaded their nights back home, now calling to her from across the miles. Bingo's howl was a beacon, a thread of their shared past that had somehow found its way to her here in the city. Mia's eyes widened as she saw the recognition in Bluey's eyes. "Is that...?" she began, but the question was unnecessary. Bingo came in. Without a second thought, Bluey leaped. She didn't care about the water soaking her fur or the cold seeping into her bones. All that mattered was finding Bingo. The city streets were a labyrinth of wet reflections, the neon lights playing tricks on her eyes as she sprinted through the rain. The scent grew stronger with every bound, her nose leading her through alleys and across busy roads, dodging puddles that mirrored the chaos above. Mia, soaked and panting, struggled to keep up. Then, a shadow moving swiftly in the rain. Bluey's heart leaped. That was Bingo! She picked up the pace, her paws barely touching the ground. The howl grew closer, turning into a series of excited barks as the two sisters rounded a corner and locked eyes. Bingo's tail wagged a mile a minute, and she barrels towards Bluey, knocking her over in a joyous reunion of wet dog and muddy paws. They rolled together, the sound of their laughter piercing the rain-soaked silence. Mia skidded to a stop, panting and smiling through the downpour. She watched as the two sisters played, their tails creating a whirlwind of joy in the dim streetlight. The sight was enough to warm her to the core, making the dampness of her fur coat feel like a small price to pay for this moment. "Bingo," she called out, her voice a mix of happiness and relief. "You found her, Bluey!"
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