While I was at Henry's shelter yesterday, we looked up his old shelter records, and I found out that he had spent a month in the public shelter in Hollister, where he'd been turned into their night box with a collar but no tags, malnourished and about five months old. They had one picture of him from that time, all motion and blur, and I'm even more curious about the mysterious lives that all the dogs lead before ending up in what we think of as their real lives with us.
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