This morning, Steve and I were talking about the little puppy that has been down stairs at our apartment building. He is always so happy to see us. He wags his little tail and comes to smell your toes. So cheery for a street dog that has nothing. But this morning he wasn't in his usual spot at the bottom of the stairs. I looked for him but he wasn't there. Then I walked out the gate and saw that the sweet little puppy got ran over right in front of our apartment. There he was. Dead.
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