I saw a stray dog in front of the office two days ago, and it was sad to see it, and sometimes when I saw it, I gave it something to eat, and when I came down, I looked like I saw my family, and my tail was so flashy, it looked like fire, and I was embarrassed not to greet him. I'm beginning to get emotional about it when it's so cute, but I'm enjoying this delicate relationship with it, and yesterday I saw the security guard at the door listening to him.
He said you can't keep feeding him like this, and that if you feel sorry for him, you can take him home and adopt him. It's not easy for me to ask for it, or to find another way out, is it? I understand what he says, and it's not true.
If you can't hear it again, it's not stupid, but then you think about it. It's a stray dog. It's dirty. It's not easy to keep going. I thought I'd take it home, take it home, and take care of it. The dog doesn't have to eat the last meal, it's always in the rain, and it's a good idea to bring it home in summer.
When I got home, I took a good bath, washed that mess, washed it many times, and it was pretty cute to pack it up, and it was like that, and suddenly it was so painful, but the end was a good one, so let's do it. Life is not easy, and tolerance is not too stingy. After all, there are things that can't be repeated before things get to that point.