When I came home the day before yesterday, when people saw another puppy downstairs, it was unclear why they said that it was not a golden hair, that a good dog could become a stray dog, that it was true, that I saw it, that the neighbors said, "Don't talk, I'll take it home, that's a nice little guy, that's when she said I didn't have much to say, and that dog wasn't our family, because I had no authority."
But if the little guy can have a good dress and a good living, it's okay, whoever's got it, it's good for him, it's good for the neighbors, it's good for him, it's good for him, it's good for him to have a dog. I eat breakfast sometimes every day, and it's hard for him to have a good day. And then it went away, and then I was walking on the street, and then a puppy came at me, and I was confused.
I understand that this is the one I met the other day, when it was so cold, when I saw it, and it really broke my heart, and the neighbors didn't hold the hound that they found, and the little guy didn't have two days, and the little guy fell on the side of the street, and I thought it was incredible, and I didn't know if it had been two days since he came home, and the little guy had been thrown out, so how could the little dog go through so much, and I was so relieved in my head that I didn't expect it to be abandoned, but I just ran out of it.
But all of this assumes that when I met my neighbour, when I saw her, I knew everything when I saw her, and the neighbours said that they thought it was a golden hair, and that it was a firecracker, and that it had been a waste of time for two days, and that she had said that she didn't care, as if she was the victim. Then I went home with a dog, and whatever the dog, it was already home, and for that reason I threw it away again.