I was waiting for a mate at the hospital's clinic the other day, when I saw a milky dog running on the road, and then I played with it for a while, and then I learned that it was a lost dog, that it was a little dirty, but I could see that it was a owner, and then I saw me, and I was ready to leave in advance, and I didn't know that the dog was willing to leave, and it was able to follow it, and then came halfway to a neighbor, who asked me when he would take care of the pet.
And then I told her this story, and then the neighbors said it would help me raise it, and it turns out the neighbors loved it, and it wasn't that much at the time, because it was hard for me to say it, because if I could just give it a home, and I had other things to do, and then I left in a hurry, and I was so anxious to keep it.
Two days after this happened, and when I was about to forget it, I saw another pup in the street, and when I knew my dog's face, I was going to blow it up, and I was so angry and depressed, and I was thinking that my neighbor would treat it well, and it was too cold to see the dog again two days later.
I went to my neighbor's house before I had two days to go to the streets, so I was so angry that I got the basis that she thought the dog she had found was marginal, that it wasn't, that it was not, that she threw it away, that the neighbors had already said it, that I said it all seemed unsatisfied, that it really hurt to look at the dog's face, that it was cold, that it was not clear how it came back. It's a pain in the ass, even though it's called a stray dog in the province, it's not acceptable for people to accept it.