I just got off the bus yesterday, and it was snowy, though not big, but it was cold, I think, but I'm lucky I'm off work, and I feel so relaxed on the road, a day of anxiety in the company's office, and I've been relieved at this hour of work, and that's when I've seen a dog that looks frozen and is now trying to get warm at a tobacco and alcohol store.
But at this point it's as if the old boss hated the dirty look of the stray dog, but the little baby wouldn't like to be driven away, and it was a pretty good look. After being driven away, the dog stayed in the snow for a while. After that, he thought, it couldn't just stay down, and it couldn't stay in the snow.
But one of the guards at the house was responsible for it, and he kicked it out, said it was dirty and stinking, and I felt like I saw its retina lost. It's, but it's not, it's dirty, no wonder no one likes a dirty stray dog like that, and then I want to come down like that, and it's just thrown out, and it's all over, because I don't like to see it anymore.
And then he looked at me straight, and I looked at me, and I looked at him very often in winter, and I was going to gamble, and if my family wanted to raise it, I brought it back to my family, and I didn't know that, because our family didn't look at it, and I felt that sometimes we had to push ourselves, and I felt that it was hard to get a home, and I felt that it was hard not to drift, and thanks to my parents, that I could still have a chance to do it, and that my loved ones would forgive it and give it a home.