Garry Bear had been at the animal shelter for one year, when my daughter and I went strolling through to find a cat. All the other cats were begging for attention; crying; reaching through the cage; hoping for someone to just touch them. Garry Bear didn’t care; didn’t cry or even look at us. In fact, Garry looked toward the back of the cage, just a cold sheet of steel. His heart was just like that cold cage, cause Garry had lost his will to live. The dreams of his life on the streets of Gary ...
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