When I got home from work yesterday, I just got to the front door of the residential block and saw a dog walking around the door. And I didn't notice it at that time, but I thought it was just a stray dog, and then immediately went home, and when I had eaten, I went out and found it still on the front door of the residential block, under a warm yellow light, that the little one looked so thin from the shadows, and that it really was scrawny, it seemed like it was caused by long-term drift.
I couldn't help but feel pain in seeing his stubborn eyes, and then when the security guard saw him, he said he thought he was his dog, and he came back with a neighbor, so he didn't stop him at the door, and then the security guard said if he wanted to talk about our dog, he blew it away, and then I heard him say, "I'm a little indecisive for an instant, and the little guy just wandered at the door to find a nice guy, but no one would look at it more."
And suddenly it was felt that the little stray dog had to feed itself in cold temperatures and must have been full of food, and that it might have to suffer from a variety of difficulties among the passers-by, and that it would have to go through a wave and a half, and that it would have gone through two quarters in the dark. Only the dog, with his eyes, saw him eat with his master's house, went out with him, but he looked in his eyes and envious, and suddenly I lost it.
It's not so important to bring it home and let it get well dressed, or when it's gonna be a piece of cake, and then I'll get her a dog's nest at the door, and I'll get her something to eat, and then I'll wash it up tomorrow, and then I'll clean it up. It's not so important. The key is that the little guy has a master who eats, drinks, eats, drinks, eats, eats, eats, eats, eats, eats, eats, eats, eats, eats, eats, eats, eats, eats, eats, eats.