I break the meat filled bun I just bought into two, take one half of the steaming bun, and put it close to the dog's mouth. The dog's mouth moves slightly. It smells the food, tries to regain the warmth escaping its body, and tries to look towards the bun. I can't bear it any longer. I see it. This dog is living. It's trying to live. I don't know why I did such a stupid thing as to walk into this troubling mess, but I can't take back what I've done. I can't just conveniently forget what I've seen. I hold the bag with my arm, leave my umbrella, and pick up the dog in my arms.