So dark, so cold. Walking, walking. So hungry. So scared. How did I get here? Why? Can’t remember. Must keep walking. Find a place to sleep, way away from those big, scary, noisy things. They make my insides shake. So scared. Big tree. If I dig a hole back here, I can lie down. I can lie down, hunker down, make myself as small as I can. Lean up against the back of the hole. Lights! Shadows! Roaring monsters! Hide. I have to hide. I’m so scared. It’s cold. I’m hungry. So tired.
Long before Harry knew his real and forever name, he was wandering alone along the back roads somewhere in the state of Georgia, in the southern United States. He must have been an adorable puppy because in full growth he was a rather handsome boy of the hound family. Much too thin for his frame, but mostly white with black ears and eyes and muzzle, with a white spotty area near his nose and a sweet touch of pink. He sported two perfectly round black spots on his lower back, toward the tail. Some might even describe him as pretty.
—June Volz, The Amazing Canine Adventures of Harry Spotter: Diary of a Rescue Dog
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