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Motley Minority

"What are you doing Molly" called out an imperious Mia. She was perched atop the recliner looking down on a disheveled furball of a Molly dressed in bell-bottom jeans with a flower patch on her posterior, a flowy blouse, and a circle of flowers placed on her head. But dangling from her left paw was a bag spilling out with sunny orange material and what looked like a guide to doggy yoga. Molly looked up, brushing a flower from her crown away from her eye. "I think it's time to ditch my hippy digs and try to fit it." Mia poured herself a second cup of tea from a floral tea pot, raising a delicate china cup to her whiskered face and taking a long sip. After closing her eyes in appreciation of the delicate brew (Reem had just got her a new package of Oolong, which she drank religiously each morning with a buttery shortbread biscuit), she responded to Molly's statement. "But why?"

 "Oh come on Mia, we are desi dogs. Look at what's going on ar…

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