I haven't eaten for two days.
The owner was lost in the mall. The owner must be lost.
Two days ago, before the owner went out, he shouted, "Little, little, come." Then I jumped into the owner's car. The owner drove me all the way, I sat on the co-pilot and looked out the window. There are passers-by in the high-rise building, frame by frame, backwards. Suddenly, I feel inexplicably sad. I think of a problem that a dog should not think about-how a dog should spend its life.
In the arms of his master, he lived a life of humiliation, or flew proudly like a sea-swallow on the vast sea like the master reads in the book.
Haiyan, what is it? I have never seen it.
So it seems my choice is already obvious. The host depends on me for life and death, and I must persist with the host.
