His name is Riley. I know I shouldn't name the stray village dogs. They're more likely to be shot than they are to be loved. Puppies are the only reason for pest control out here. I understand it- it's more ethical to kill a dog than it is to watch it starve and wander aimlessly around the village. But Riley... well he's different. He's a big dumb puppy. Too big for the children to be infatuated with anymore- so he doesn't get much attention. Except from me of course. Every time I walk out of the house he pops out of no where to greet me with lots of kisses and playful jumps. I wish I had a place to keep him, or the nerve to pawn him off of the kids that have carelessly claimed him as their own (for they don't much take care of him). I sneak him dry fish and frozen leftovers. He rewards me with sweet little eyes and an innocently darling smile. The two minutes of the day that I secretly spend in his company are the most sincerely bittersweet of them all. I've fallen in love. It's a disheartening thought. Someday I'll witness the police target him down simply because I have no way to persuade his actual owners to take better care of him. I wish fate would step in. I promise I would never take for granted his beloved goofy actions. He's too big and he hasn't grown into his long legs. He's awkward and adorable and the most kind-eyed being you ever did see. I would do anything to claim him as my own...
