I went home from work yesterday, and a stray dog was behind my back, and at first I was a little worried, and then when I looked at it, the little guy looked down at me, and I felt sad, and I felt as if he was even more worried about it, and then he looked at me a little shy, and it was already so small, so I was worried about it, and it was so small, and I felt so sad.
I felt sorry to see his little eyes go like that, and I felt that the little one had already followed me to the front door, that the little dog was in fact a bit of a disagreement, that it was too much for my heart to leave it outside, and that its little eyes were really pathetic, that it had been at the door for half a day, that it had looked at me with hope, and that it was kind of hard to take it, and I felt it.
When I saw its poor little eyes, I couldn't bear to keep it out of the door, and it was so small, and its hair looked so thin, so dirty, it should have been a long time without the results of cleaning, or with pity for it, and then I closed the door, and the little guy didn't think he was someone else's, and he walked in, and he didn't back down, and he saw it, because I was laughing, and he thought it would be late.
It seemed like I had some confidence, even though it was not clear where the blind and wind came from, that it wanted to believe that my heart was warm, and that it had a long-term, unnecessary cage on the balcony that I used to feed the rabbit, which I didn't think would actually fit, so it would be nice to stay at home, even though the temperature was warming, but it was cold at night, and it was so small.