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It occurred to me, as I watched Cavelli walk by, teats swinging like the udders of some hulking Friesian, that, for her whole life, she must’ve been defined by her children; her value determined exclusively by her ability to grow, birth and raise them. Her happiness, her needs and her wants must’ve been a secondary – or tertiary – concern. It is, therefore, about time to celebrate Cavelli because of her many wonderful merits, merits which extend well beyond the narrow realm of child-rearing.She came to us, naturally, with pups in tow – three, to be precise – and she was as devoted as she was doting, but her love is more ambient than specific. She loves her kids, true, but she loves us too – whoever ‘us’ happens to be. She loves a thrown toy upon which she might pounce, she loves a fragrant flower upon which she might roll, she loves a fine meal upon which she might feast. She loves to race in expanding and narrowing circles, faster and faster, each leg chasing to keep up with the one n...