83: Just a Stray Dog of Unknown Origin

Lizzie had walked a dozen meters to a trash bin to dispose of her garbage. She dusted off her clothes, but the smeared dirt on her outfit stubbornly clung onto it. As she strolled back towards her villa, she wiped the beads of sweat off her forehead. She heard a whimpering sound. This time, Lizzie followed the sound and spotted a grubby little white dog hiding in the nearby flowerbed. With a tender touch, she lifted the poor creature out, seeing it had a bleeding paw.

"Oh, how did you get injured?" Lizzie cradled the dirty dog in her arms without any signs of repulsion. She sat on the edge of the flowerbed, examining the wound on its paw. The little white dog obediently lay on her lap, wagging its tail.

Lizzie held its paws, looking into its round, innocent, brown eyes, "How did you end up here? Where's your home?" Despite being fully aware that it wouldn't answer, she couldn't stop her questions.

This was an upscale neighborhood, and the residents who owned dogs usually had pedigreed