It's a dog. It's not a precious dog. Grandma met her on the street before she died. It was only then that the dog was a little bit older, and it wasn't clear that he was going out, he was going to eat in a garbage dump, he was going to die, and he couldn't enjoy it. But Grandma felt that the dog was too small and took it to her home.
I can't imagine a dog growing up to be a good-looking dog. Grandma had lived alone long ago, and all her children had set up their homes, and her body had stopped bothering her little friends. A dog spent a whole decade with her and then Grandma died. The dog was taken by the eldest son.
But the dog's restless, he's got a weird trail, he's out every morning at 6:00, and he's only going home to sleep at night, like a salaried man.
One day, the eldest son became curious and followed behind him and could not have imagined that one of him would come to his grandmother's grave and lie down. The dog is here with the master!
Maybe it's the only place where you can smell the master's air. Dogs get to the grave every day when it's clear.
Indeed, it was the first son of his grandmother who was moved, and he was moved, and his mother was not able to visit her often when she was alive, and did not do her good. It's not as important as the dog's love for her. The dog is still doing my duty! Remember here, he must respect this old dog after making his decision, and respect this loyal dog! Let him have a happy old age!