Brida (pronounced "bree-da") isn't my pet, but it's the closest I've had to one since then. She's the always-sad looking dog that lives at the gas stations by my house. I'm pretty much in love.
At the end of our road, two gas stations share the same block. Brida splits her time between them. She spends her days slowly wandering around the cars and customers like they're not even there. The staffs feed her, clothe her when its cold (for Brazil) and provide her with a bed. Brida loves sleeping under the covers.
Despite all this love, Brida has seen better days. She's pretty old and walks with a big limp. She lays around a lot. While her happiest face is still sad, some days she looks down right ill. I don't know how long Brida has left. I visit her just about every day and whenever that comes to an end, well, it's going to hurt.
Here are some photos of the sad sensation known as Brida:
There's those sad eyes.
Brida has seen a lot over the years.
Brida had a bad day recently.
But she was looking better the next.
Things will get better, Brida. One day.
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