Around February, a tiny dog, Daisy, had come to us, along with her three babies, Huey, Louie and Dewey.

All three were like little dolls, so cute as if they were fake, and growing up they continued to look unreal, and at the age when they began to look like dogs and not dolls, two of them were adopted.

One of the three, Dewey (and mom) was left behind. Of the three, he was always the one who looked the most like a duckling, with his nose a little more raised forming an upside-down curve between the edge of the muzzle and the forehead.

Of all three, he was the one who always looked at the lens, since he was a baby. He looked intently, as if he knew this was what he had to do.

Dewey today is a sweet puppy, who runs to meet you as soon as you appear in the shelter, who rejoices and plays, and who, when you hold a treat, sits like a good boy, and looks at you, with that look he always had, that of the good boy.