I was in the neighborhood the day before, and then I realized that a dog lay under a chassis that looked very unwell, and then came across it twice, that it had been seen before with its owner, and now I don't know what happened, that I was alone in every corner of the community, and I thought it had been dispersed by the owner, but I felt like it had not gone home in the rain, that it was just hiding between the stairs, that it looked so pathetic, that it didn't have the hair that it had, suddenly had a bad sense, that the dog had been dumped by the owner, and suddenly I felt it.
Seeing it running around the neighborhood, there are no fixed areas, sometimes it can be seen on its way to and from work that it has been driven by the district owner, sometimes far away by the driver of the car, and again it means that the sister who cleaned the room was scolded for eating with something another person couldn't eat in the earth, saying that it had taken all its waste and saw the dog suffocated. Seeing it so good, and being left by the master, I do think that the former master would not see it. How does it feel inside?
It's hard to think about the old master's treasure, but now he's turned into a vagabond that can only be felt in his own mind. When I'm off work, I see it lying in the grass, and I see it turning from a dog of spirit to a soft one, and then I remember it, or I'll take it with me, and then I'll talk about the dog.
From one place to another, from high clothing to food and clothing to today's displacement, it's been through too much, and it's been quite a turn of sight. It's only a meal, and every time I see its pathetic eyes, I'm bitter, and I don't have to look around if I keep it, even though the standard of life is higher, the dog is still thinner every day, and he can't find his stasis, or he can't see it by himself. That's how he can survive. I don't have to look at it as if he's thinner than he's a day.