I was number 55. Just one of many dogs with no name, no friends, sometimes no shelter, and no hope. I lived in a tiny wire cage for the first three years of my life. Sometimes a human would remove me from there and place me in another small, plastic box which sat on the back seat of a car. The person drove to another place where I was able to get out and meet and play with other Shih Tzus. I didn’t get to stay long, though, and that made me sad. The sadness continued when I returned to my small space at the puppy mill. Rarely did I get to play with the little dogs near me who also lived in tiny cages. I wondered if the loneliness would ever go away.
Life changed one day.
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