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I can always count on Dixie to be right behind, beside, or below me no matter where I go all day. She’s in the feed truck as soon as I crack that squeaky old Dodge door, she’s under my desk sleeping on a sheep pelt at the farm store. When she hears the jingle of my keys, she’s out the back door before I jump into my rig. She sleeps on the cushion of my old broken-in chair next to the fire with me at night until I get up to go to bed…. then she plops in my sock basket in my closet to settle in for the night.