When I came home the day before yesterday and passed through the construction site, I realized there was a dog on the road, and I thought it was cold, and it was as if it was still hungry, and it was still dirty, and there were people at the construction site who came to drive it, and maybe it came in to mess up, and then the dog came down on the street, and it looked pathetic, and then saw a stray dog walking on the road, and the passers-by intended to drive it far away, and the little guy was bitter.
It's so sad when I think it's too small, I'm talking about a stray dog all my life, and it's a cold winter, and I can't even imagine how pathetic it is this winter, when it's like a pet dog, when it's all over the house.
It's like the world's poorest dog, and it's so close to it, alone and starving, that it looks so pathetic and helpless.
And I bought it some food from the store, and the dog would indeed be hungry at the top, and I would eat it, and when I approached it, it would send out that kind of roaring noise because I was afraid of getting close to it, and then realized that it was a problem like that, because of food, perhaps long-term drifting, and that it was hard for me to leave it on the street, a life that was hard to live, and then take it home, thinking about bathing it, but I thought I'd find it out in two days, otherwise it would not be appropriate for it to be sick again, and uncomfortable for the winter.