The shepherds are sold. Not a dog but a club dog. Ordinary dogs stand at the border of the battalion. Today brought potatoes, was a witness to how another puppy found a master.
A very wicked uncle, on a jippe (injury - the whole entrance barred) picked a covet and mated in half a voice.
The essence of the claims to life: the wife wants either a Persian bulldog, or a Madagascar sheep, or a Vietnamese chicken.
As a child, I dreamed of a sheep. That’s why I can’t buy myself not so that everyone will envy me, but so that my dream will come true. The pain for their money.
Yeshiva, he is right.