Berkeley's Place

Berkeley's Place To see animal welfare organizations have the resources essential to delivering meaningful care. Our ultimate goal is to end animal suffering.

Berkeley’s Place is a forum to honour all aspects of our pets’ lives and our relationship with them. Berkeley's Place works hard to network with as many organizations as we can to bring awareness to the plight of rescue, including holding donation drives for food and other needed supplies for rescues so that badly needed funds can be allocated to critical care medical needs for the animals they are saving. Linktree: https://linktr.ee/berkeleysplace

09/03/2026

THE RESCUE REALITY SERIES - When Helping Becomes About Us

This is a difficult one because most of us entered rescue for the right reasons. We wanted to help. We wanted to make a difference. We wanted to be the person who showed up when everyone else walked away. But sometimes, without realizing it, something can quietly shift. The focus moves from: “What does this animal need?” to “What can I do to save this animal?”

Those sound like the same thing, but they aren't always because sometimes our desire to save becomes so strong that we become attached to a particular outcome. We want to be the one who fixes it. The one who finds the solution. The one who refuses to give up. The one who gets the happy ending and there is nothing wrong with wanting a happy ending, but we have to be careful that our need for the happy ending doesn't become more important than the animal's actual needs because the animal doesn't know who saved them. They don't care whose name is on the fundraiser. They don't care which rescue logo is on the post. They don't care who gets the credit. They don't care who was right. They don't care who won the argument.

They care about being safe. They care about being comfortable. They care about food. They care about companionship. They care about peace. They care about having their needs understood and sometimes, what they need isn't what we hoped they would need. Maybe the right answer isn't our home. Maybe it's another rescue. Maybe it's a different foster. Maybe it's a behaviour professional. Maybe it's a sanctuary. Maybe it's medical intervention. Maybe it's rehabilitation. Maybe it's hospice. Maybe, as heartbreaking as it is, it's letting them go.

Our responsibility isn't to make the story end the way we want it to end. Our responsibility is to make the decision that gives the animal the best possible outcome and sometimes that requires us to step aside. To say: “Someone else may be better equipped for this.”

That isn't failure. That's humility. There is enormous strength in recognizing that another person may have the skills, resources or environment this particular animal needs. We don't have to be the hero. In fact the animal doesn't need a hero. They need an advocate. Someone willing to listen. Someone willing to learn. Someone willing to seek professional advice. Someone willing to change course. Someone willing to put their own emotions aside when necessary. Someone willing to say: “This isn't about me” and perhaps that's one of the hardest lessons in rescue.

Sometimes we have to separate our love for an animal from our attachment to the outcome. We can desperately want them to survive and still recognize when their quality of life must come first. We can desperately want to keep them and still recognize that another placement is better. We can desperately want to be the person who saves them and still hand them over to someone who can do it better. That isn't losing. That's advocacy.

Rescue isn't about collecting success stories. It isn't about proving how much we are willing to sacrifice. It isn't about being indispensable and it certainly isn't about being the person who gets the credit. It's about the animal. Always.

So before we ask: “How can I save this animal?” Maybe we should ask: “What does this animal actually need?” And then “Am I the person best equipped to provide it?”

Sometimes the answer will be yes and sometimes it won't. Both answers can come from love. Because the greatest act of rescue may not be saving an animal ourselves. It may be having the humility to help them find the person who can.

Make it about the animal.
Not the rescuer.
Not the recognition.
Not the outcome we want.
The animal.

Rescue Reality Series — Part 11

09/02/2026

THE RESCUE REALITY SERIES - The Burnout Nobody Talks About

We talk about animal rescue.
We talk about the animals.
The success stories.
The adoptions.
The happy endings.
The before-and-after photos.

But there is another side of rescue that doesn't make it onto Facebook very often.

The burnout.

The kind that creeps in quietly.
At first, you just get tired.
Then you're answering messages later at night.
You're checking your phone before you've even gotten out of bed.
You're thinking about animals while you're at work.
You're worrying about the one who isn't eating.
The one who is declining.
The one who hasn't found a foster.
The one whose surgery didn't go as planned.
The one whose adoption fell through.
The one you couldn't save.

And then there are the messages.

Another emergency.
Another plea.
Another animal who needs somewhere to go.
Another person asking: “Can you help?”

And your heart screams yes while everything else inside you is whispering:
“I don't know how much more I have.”

That is rescue burnout and it doesn't mean you stopped caring. Sometimes it means you cared for too long without enough support.

Burnout isn't always dramatic.
Sometimes it looks like not answering the phone.
Sometimes it looks like staring at a message for an hour because you don't know how to respond.
Sometimes it looks like feeling numb when another emergency comes in.
Sometimes it looks like anger.
Frustration.
Resentment.
Guilt.
Exhaustion.
Crying over something that normally wouldn't break you or wondering why something you once loved so deeply suddenly feels impossible and then comes the guilt.

“A real rescuer wouldn't feel this way.” Yes they would. Because rescuers are human beings.

You can love animals deeply and still be exhausted.
You can be grateful for the work and still need a break.
You can be proud of what you've accomplished and still say: “I can't do this today.”
You can care passionately and still have nothing left in the tank. That doesn't make you a bad rescuer. It makes you a human being who has been carrying too much for too long and here's something we need to talk about more:

Rest is not quitting. Taking a weekend away doesn't mean you abandoned rescue.
Turning off your phone for an evening doesn't mean you don't care. Declining an emergency doesn't mean you're heartless. Taking a break from fostering doesn't mean you're selfish. Asking someone else to take the lead doesn't mean you've failed. Sometimes stepping back is exactly what allows you to come back because animals need us healthy enough to make good decisions. They need us clear-headed enough to advocate. They need us emotionally present. They need us capable of seeing the difference between what we want and what they need and none of that happens when we're running on fumes.

So to the rescuer who is exhausted right now...

The one who feels guilty for needing a break.
The one who has started wondering if you can do this anymore.
The one who hasn't had a moment to breathe.

Please hear this:

You are allowed to stop. Not forever. Maybe just for tonight. Put the phone down.
Eat something. Take a shower. Go outside. Sit with your own animals. Watch something ridiculous. Hug a tree. Sleep. Let someone else answer the messages. Let someone else carry the emergency. You don't have to solve everything tonight.
You don't have to save everyone. You are not responsible for every animal in the world. You are responsible for the animals in your care and sometimes the most responsible thing you can do for them is take care of yourself because the rescue world doesn't need more people burning themselves to ashes trying to save everything. It needs people who can keep showing up. For years. For decades.
For the next animal, and the one after that. So rest, rescuer. The work will still be there tomorrow.

And hopefully so will you.

You cannot pour endlessly from an empty heart. Take care of yourself.
Your animals need you. Your rescue community needs you and you matter too.

Rescue Reality Series — Part 10

Pet Valu Fort Saskatchewan saves the day! Our valued volunteer at the pet food bank was facing bare shelves this morning...
09/01/2026

Pet Valu Fort Saskatchewan saves the day! Our valued volunteer at the pet food bank was facing bare shelves this morning and still had orders to help fill for clients in need of food supports for their companion animals.

We are beyond humbled and grateful for the support of our partner stores so that we can help both rescue and humans supporting their companions with food because no one should have to choose between feeding themselves or feeding their furbabies.

09/01/2026

THE RESCUE REALITY SERIES - Love Isn't Always Enough

We say it all the time:

“All they need is love.” Oh, how I wish that were true because love is powerful.
Love can give a frightened animal a reason to trust again. Love can provide comfort. Love can create safety. Love can change a life.

But sometimes love isn't enough.

Some animals need specialized veterinary care.
Some need medication.
Some need rehabilitation.
Some need a behaviour professional.
Some need structured decompression.
Some need an experienced handler.
Some need to be the only animal in the home.
Some need a quiet environment.
Some need an acreage.
Some need a very specific routine.
Some need someone who understands their triggers.
Some need boundaries.
Some need time.
Some need a level of care that the average loving home simply cannot provide.

That doesn't mean the home isn't loving. It means love and capacity are two different things.

We have to stop assuming that because someone loves animals, they automatically have the skills, environment, time or resources to care for every animal. They don't, and that's okay.

A three-year-old Labrador with a stable temperament and a senior dog with significant behavioural challenges may both deserve love but they may not have the same placement needs.

A terrified animal who has never lived in a home may need something completely different from an animal who is comfortable around children and other pets.

A dog with significant reactivity may need an experienced handler.

A medically fragile animal may need someone who can manage a complex treatment plan.

A traumatized animal may need months of decompression before anyone can even begin to understand who they really are.

The right placement isn't simply the home with the biggest heart. It's the home that can safely and appropriately meet that animal's needs and sometimes that means saying: “This isn't the right home” even when everyone involved has the best intentions.

That can be incredibly difficult because nobody wants to feel like they are rejecting an animal. Matching an animal to the wrong environment because we desperately want it to work doesn't help anyone. It can increase stress. It can create behavioural problems. It can put people or other animals at risk and ultimately, it can result in another failed placement which means the animal experiences yet another loss. Yet another move. Yet another person saying goodbye.

So let's stop thinking of placement as:

“Who loves this animal enough?”

And start asking:

“Who can meet this animal's needs?”

Those are two very different questions.

Love should absolutely be part of the equation but it shouldn't be the only part because animals deserve more than our good intentions. They deserve informed decisions. They deserve appropriate placement. They deserve people who understand what they're taking on. They deserve an environment where they can actually thrive and when we admit that an animal needs more than we can provide, we aren't failing them. We're listening to them. Sometimes the most loving thing we can do is admit: “I love you enough to know that I may not be the right person for you.” That is not rejection. That is advocacy. That is humility. That is responsible rescue and it brings us right back to where this entire series began:

Keep the animal at the centre.

Not our desire to be the hero.
Not our need to make it work.
Not our attachment to an outcome.

The animal.

Because love matters.

But sometimes...

love needs a little help.

Love them enough to understand them.
Love them enough to meet their needs.
Love them enough to find the right place for them.

Rescue Reality Series — Part 9

08/31/2026

THE RESCUE REALITY SERIES - The Foster Home Is Not a Bottomless Resource

Let's talk about the people who make rescue possible but are sometimes forgotten in the conversation:

The foster. The person who opens their home. Their heart. Their schedule.
Their refrigerator. Their spare room. Their vehicle. Their wallet. Their emotional capacity. Their family. Their existing animals. And sometimes their entire life.

When an animal needs a place to go, the question often becomes:

“Can someone foster?”

And when nobody steps forward, the pressure can become enormous.

Surely someone can take them.

What about this rescue?
What about that foster?
Can't someone just make room?

But here's the truth:

A foster home is a gift. It is not an unlimited resource.

Fosters have jobs. Children. Other animals. Medical appointments. Vacations.
Family obligations. Landlords. Budgets. Physical limitations. Emotional limitations.

They are not emergency housing. They are not professional behaviour facilities.
They are not veterinary clinics. They are not endlessly available and they should never be made to feel guilty because they have reached their limit.

Because here's what happens when we push people beyond their capacity:

They burn out.
They stop fostering.
They stop answering the phone.
They stop volunteering and eventually, an entire rescue community loses one of the most valuable resources it has. The people.

A good foster placement isn't simply:

“Do you have a spare room?”

It should be:

“Is this the right environment for this particular animal?”

That means considering temperament. Behaviour. Medical needs. Other animals in the home. Children. Experience. Space. Time. Resources and safety.

Sometimes the answer is yes.
Sometimes it is no and sometimes the answer is “Not this animal.”

That doesn't make the foster uncaring. It makes them honest and honesty protects animals because putting an animal into a home that isn't equipped to meet their needs simply because someone had to take them isn't responsible rescue. The goal shouldn't be to find a foster. The goal should be to find the right foster and that may take time. It may require creativity. It may require multiple organizations working together. It may require temporary boarding. It may require fundraising. It may require a behaviour professional. It may require someone to step outside their normal role and say: “How can I help solve this without putting everything on one person?”

That's what a rescue community should look like not one exhausted person carrying an entire emergency on their back. A village.

So if you know a foster...

Check in on them.
Bring them dinner.
Offer respite.
Take their foster dog for a walk.
Help with transportation.
Donate supplies.
Offer to cover a veterinary bill.
Give them an afternoon off.

And if they say:

“I can't take another one.”

Believe them.

Don't guilt them.
Don't tell them that if they really cared, they would make room.
They care.
That's why they're telling you the truth.

And if you're a foster reading this...

Please hear this:

You are allowed to have limits.
You are allowed to take a break.
You are allowed to say no.
You are allowed to protect your family.
You are allowed to protect your own animals.

You are allowed to say:

“I love this animal, but I cannot be the right home for them.”

That isn't failure. That's responsible care because rescue isn't sustainable when the people doing it are constantly running themselves into the ground. We don't need fosters who say yes to everything. We need fosters who can keep opening their doors for years to come because the goal isn't to save one animal at any cost. The goal is to build a community capable of saving animals for generations.

Protect the foster. Support the foster. Respect the foster.

And above all:

Keep the animal at the centre. Always.

Rescue Reality Series — Part 8

08/30/2026

THE RESCUE REALITY SERIES - Rescue Has No Perfect Answers

Wouldn't it be wonderful if rescue came with an instruction manual?

A checklist.
A flowchart.

A little box that told us “Do this, and everything will be okay.”

But it doesn't because animals aren't checklists. Every animal is different. Every situation is different. Every history is different. Every home is different. Every rescue has different resources.

And sometimes there simply isn't a perfect answer. There are only imperfect choices.

We make decisions with the information we have. We consult veterinarians. We talk to behaviour professionals. We speak with fosters. We assess the environment. We consider safety. We consider quality of life. We look at the available resources. We weigh the risks and then we make the best decision we can at that moment, not with the information we might have six months from now. Not with the information someone else has. Not with the benefit of hindsight but with what we know today. Sometimes we get it wrong. That doesn't necessarily mean we were careless. It means we're human.

Maybe new information comes to light. Maybe the animal behaves differently than expected. Maybe a medical condition changes. Maybe a placement that looked perfect isn't. Maybe a treatment doesn't work. Maybe something we thought was manageable turns out not to be.

Rescue requires us to be willing to adjust. To reassess. To admit when something isn't working. To change direction. To ask for help and sometimes to say “We need to try something different.”

That isn't failure. That's responsible decision-making.

One of the hardest things about rescue is that people often judge decisions with the benefit of hindsight.

“Why didn't you do this?”
“Why didn't you know that?”
“I would have handled it differently.”

Maybe.

But you weren't standing in that moment. You didn't have the same information.
You didn't have the same resources. You didn't have the same responsibilities and you didn't have the same animal standing in front of you.

So before we judge a decision, let's remember something:

Decisions are made in moments. Judgments are often made afterward.

Those are two very different things.

And here's another uncomfortable truth:

Sometimes two compassionate people can look at the exact same situation and come to completely different conclusions.

One may believe rehabilitation is possible. Another may believe a different placement is needed. One may focus on medical intervention. Another may focus on quality of life. One may believe more time is warranted. Another may believe the animal is suffering. That doesn't automatically mean one person cares and the other doesn't. It means rescue is complicated.

We can disagree without becoming enemies.
We can question without attacking.
We can learn without shaming.
We can change our minds without being humiliated for having made the best decision we could with the information we had.

And perhaps most importantly:

We can admit that sometimes we simply don't know.

There is tremendous wisdom in saying:

“I don't know.”
“Let's ask someone who does.”
“Let's get another opinion.”
“Let's reassess.”
“Let's put the animal first.”

Because rescue isn't about always being right. It's about being willing to keep learning.

So to every rescuer who has ever replayed a decision in their head...

Who has wondered “What if?”

Who has wished they had known then what they know now.

Please give yourself some grace.

You made the decision you made with the heart, knowledge, resources and information you had at the time.

Learn from it.
Grow from it.
Do better when you can.
But don't let hindsight convince you that you didn't care.
Because sometimes the hardest part of rescue isn't making the decision.
It's living with the fact that there may never be a perfect answer.

Do your best. Seek guidance. Stay open to learning and keep the animal at the centre.

Rescue Reality Series — Part 7

Your Saturday funny!
08/29/2026

Your Saturday funny!

08/29/2026

THE RESCUE REALITY SERIES - The Hardest Word in Rescue: No

There is a word that almost every rescuer struggles to say.

No.

No, we don't have a foster.
No, we don't have the funds.
No, we don't have the space.
No, this isn't the right environment.
No, we don't have the expertise this animal needs.
No, we cannot safely take another one.
No, we cannot do what you're asking.

For people who dedicate their lives to helping animals, saying no can feel like failure because we know what happens when nobody says yes. We see the photograph. We read the plea. We hear the story and our hearts immediately start looking for a way.

Surely we can figure something out.
Surely someone can help.
Surely we can make room.
Sometimes we can, but sometimes we can't and pretending we can doesn't make us more compassionate. It makes us irresponsible.

Because every time we say yes, we are making a commitment to an animal who is already depending on us. That commitment matters. The animals already in our care matter. Their safety matters. Their quality of life matters. Their stability matters and they should never have to pay the price because we were too afraid to say no to the next emergency.

A responsible no is not abandonment.

It is recognizing our limitations before an animal suffers because we exceeded them. It is knowing when another rescue may be better equipped. It is recognizing when a foster home isn't appropriate. It is acknowledging when a behaviour case requires expertise we don't have. It is understanding that love does not automatically equal capacity and sometimes saying no isn't closing a door. It's making space for the right door to open. Someone else may have the perfect foster. Another organization may have the right resources. A behaviour professional may have the expertise. A sanctuary may have the environment. A veterinarian may have the answer.

Our job isn't always to personally solve the problem.

Sometimes our job is to help find the person who can.

That is still rescue.

We need to stop measuring compassion by the number of animals someone takes because saying yes to everything isn't sustainable. Eventually, there is no more room. No more money. No more energy. No more emotional capacity and then the very people who have spent years helping animals are burned out, broken down and unable to continue. That doesn't serve the animals.

So if you are a rescuer who has recently had to say no...

Please don't beat yourself up.
You didn't fail because you couldn't take one more.
You didn't stop caring because you recognized a limitation.
You didn't become selfish because you protected the animals already depending on you and you certainly don't have to prove your heart by destroying yourself.

Sometimes “no” is the most responsible answer we can give.

Because rescue isn't about taking every animal.

It's about making sure the animals we do take have the care, safety, resources and commitment they deserve.

So the next time someone says:

“But you're a rescue. You're supposed to help.”

Remember:

You are a rescue.
You are supposed to help.
But helping doesn't always mean taking.
Sometimes helping means making a call.
Finding a resource.
Sharing a contact.
Funding an assessment.
Finding a foster.
Calling a behaviour professional.
Connecting someone with another organization.

Or simply saying:

“We aren't the right fit, but let's see if we can help you find the right one.”

There is no shame in that.
There is wisdom in it.
There is responsibility in it.
And sometimes there is tremendous compassion in saying no.

You don't have to say yes to every animal to be an advocate for animals.

Keep the animal at the centre. Always.

Rescue Reality Series — Part 6

08/28/2026

THE RESCUE REALITY SERIES - Sometimes Saving Isn't the Same as Helping

This may be one of the hardest conversations in rescue because when we love animals, our instinct is simple:

Save them.
Save them from the shelter.
Save them from the street.
Save them from neglect.
Save them from suffering.
Save them from whatever happened to bring them into our care.

That instinct is beautiful.

But sometimes we need to stop and ask a harder question:

Are we saving this animal, or are we actually helping this animal?

Because those two things are not always the same.

Keeping an animal alive is not automatically the same as giving them a good quality of life.

Moving an animal from one place to another is not automatically the same as giving them safety.

Taking responsibility for an animal is not automatically the same as meeting their needs and extending a life is not automatically the same as improving that life.

These are incredibly difficult questions and they aren't questions that should be answered by emotion alone. They require veterinary guidance. They may require behaviour professionals. They require honest assessment. They require us to look at the animal in front of us—not the outcome we desperately wish for them.

What is their quality of life?
Are they comfortable?
Are they experiencing joy?
Are they able to engage with their environment?
Are their physical needs being met?
Are their emotional and behavioural needs being met?
Are we giving them a life they can actually enjoy?
Or, are we making decisions because we aren't ready to let go?

That last question can hurt.

Because rescuers love deeply.
We fight.
We advocate.
We fundraise.
We lose sleep.
We celebrate every tiny improvement and when you've fought that hard for an animal, letting go can feel like giving up.

But sometimes letting go is not giving up. Sometimes it is the final act of advocacy. Sometimes the greatest gift we can give an animal is freedom from pain, fear or suffering.

That doesn't make the decision easy. It doesn't make the grief any smaller and it certainly doesn't mean the animal wasn't worth saving.

Quite the opposite.

It means their comfort mattered more than our need to say:

“We saved them.”

This is where rescue requires something more than a big heart.

It requires humility.
It requires courage.
It requires the willingness to hear something we don't want to hear.
It requires us to recognize that our responsibility isn't simply to keep an animal alive.

Our responsibility is to advocate for the life that is right for that animal.

Sometimes that means treatment.
Sometimes it means rehabilitation.
Sometimes it means a different placement.
Sometimes it means sanctuary.
Sometimes it means hospice.

And sometimes, heartbreakingly, it means helping them cross the Rainbow Bridge with dignity.

There is no shame in any of those choices when they are made thoughtfully, compassionately and with the animal's best interests at the centre.

We owe them more than survival.
We owe them quality.

So when the rescue world gets loud and everyone has an opinion about what should happen next, let's come back to the same question:

Not...

“How can we save this animal?”

But...

“What does this animal need from us?”

And sometimes, those answers will be the same.

Sometimes they won't.

But if we are truly advocating for animals, we have to be brave enough to accept either answer.

Because rescue isn't about winning the battle to keep an animal alive at all costs.

It's about having the courage to do what is right for the animal—even when what is right breaks our own hearts.

Keep the animal at the centre. Always.

Rescue Reality Series — Part 5

08/27/2026

THE RESCUE REALITY SERIES - Rescue Isn't a Competition

Somewhere along the way, rescue became a little bit of a competition.

Who can save the most?
Who can take the hardest case?
Who can raise the most money?
Who can go without sleep the longest?
Who can say yes when everyone else says no?
Who will sacrifice the most?

And perhaps the most dangerous question of all:

Who cares more?

But rescue isn't a competition.

There is no trophy for being the most exhausted.
There is no award for having the emptiest bank account.
There is no prize for taking on more animals than you realistically have the capacity to care for.

And, there is certainly no honour in breaking yourself in half just to prove how much you love animals.

More isn't always better.

Sometimes the most responsible rescuer is the one who says:

“I don't have the resources for this.”
“I don't have the right placement.”
“I need help.”
“I need another rescue involved.”
“I need a behaviour professional.”
“I need veterinary guidance.”
“I cannot safely take this animal.”

Those aren't signs of failure. Those are signs of responsible rescue.

Because rescue isn't about how many animals we can collect.

It's about how well we can care for the animals who are depending on us.

Every animal deserves more than a safe place to land. They deserve appropriate medical care. They deserve emotional safety. They deserve enrichment. They deserve stability. They deserve appropriate nutrition. They deserve behavioural support when needed. They deserve people who have the time, energy and resources to actually meet their needs.

And sometimes that means saying no.

That can be one of the hardest words in rescue because rescuers are wired to say yes.

We see the animal.
We see the need.
We know what happens if nobody steps forward.

And our hearts scream:

“But someone has to help!”

Yes. Someone does, but that someone doesn't always have to be you and saying no to one animal does not mean you care less about animals. It may mean you're protecting the animals already in your care from becoming one more thing you cannot adequately provide for.

We also need to stop comparing rescues, fosters and volunteers.

Different organizations have different missions.
Different resources.
Different expertise.
Different philosophies.
Different limitations.
Different animals.
Different circumstances.

What works for one situation may be completely inappropriate for another. There isn't one magical rescue formula and there isn't one perfect rescuer. There are simply people doing their best, often under incredibly difficult circumstances, trying to make the best decisions they can.

So let's stop asking:

“Why didn't you do what I would have done?”

And start asking:

“What can I do to help?”

Because if you truly want to make a difference, there are countless ways to do it.

Foster.
Transport.
Donate.
Volunteer.
Share a post.
Make a meal for an exhausted foster.
Pay a veterinary bill.
Offer respite.
Help with laundry.
Take someone's dog for a walk.
Sit with someone after a devastating loss.

Sometimes the most meaningful thing you can do isn't taking another animal. It's helping the people who already have one.

Rescue doesn't need heroes competing against one another. It needs a community. It needs collaboration. It needs humility. It needs boundaries. It needs people who are willing to say, “I don't know, but let's find someone who does.” And most of all, it needs us to remember why we started.

Not to be the biggest.
Not to be the busiest.
Not to be the most praised.
Not to prove that we care more than someone else.

We started because an animal needed someone and if we keep the animal at the centre, there is room for all of us to contribute in different ways.

There is no competition in compassion.

Rescue Reality Series — Part 4

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