It was the eyes–the sad brown eyes. They were pleading, asking the woman for something. She stood in front of the dog and petted her. “It’s ok, baby. It’s ok. Everything is going to be fine,” she said. The man standing next to the dog looked at the ground. The woman started to move away; the dog’s eyes kept on talking. Get me out of here. I don’t know what is going on. Why are we here, in the middle of the sidewalk every single day? Why is there a plastic cup near my owner where people can put money? I’ve seen them drop coins and green bills. I’m scared.