The day before yesterday, I ate at a restaurant around the neighborhood of a bicycle home, when I tasted half of it, I saw a dog wandering around the store with fear, but he never went in there, looked polite, but he didn't have anything to eat, and I happened to be the first person to sit on the front door, so I threw a bone at it, and the dog slipped away from it as soon as he saw it.
How can it be so mature when it comes to vagrancy? Seeing it means chronic vagrancy, it's hungry. Seeing it comes to the front door of a restaurant for food, I can't watch it, talk again, I don't eat a bone, I can't throw it, I can't feed it to a dog, I can eat it, and then I can see its back when I eat.
And then I saw it lying next to my bike, and it looked like I was actively helping to see what it meant in return, and it really didn't feed it for nothing. It's boned, and then I'm left with the last bite of my meal, and I hear the bark of a dog out there, and it sounds mean. I look back and I see my car pulling me, and I go out, and I think I'm going to eat an empty meal without locks, and I'm in the first row, and I'm going to remember that nobody should move.
I didn't know when the dog was screaming at the man, but he looked at the dog, and he learned to drop the car, and then I went out, and the dog came back to me, with his little tail in his arms, and I felt his head, and I said to him, "Go home, it's a good dog, but it's a good dog, and it's like it's close to me, and then I took it to my house, and I had to admit that it was a good thing to walk through it, and that it was a good thing to me."