I stole your dog today. No, I didn't set a foot on your house, but from the condition of your dog, I can imagine what it looks like...the word "rubbish" comes to mind. I found her along a road, with a heavy chain wrapped around her neck, still attached to rotten boards from her doghouse. Not only did I know that most of the town people had already ignored her, judging by where I found her, but I knew that if she had gotten into the Woods, the "cross" that she dragged behind her would have wrapped around a tree until starvation or thirst killed her. She has a beautiful name now. Already in the first week she has come to look more like she should. Her eyes sparkle and she has learned to wag her tail in greeting. She has stopped flinching   when I make a sudden movement, because she knows now that I won't beat her, in fact, she rarely leaves my side. She's even become brave enough to bark at a cat and today I watched from the window as she attempted to play with the other dogs. No, it's clear she does not miss you or her former life on a chain. It's not clear yet whether she'll remain here or whether I'll find her a loving home where she can count on more individual attention than I can give her, but one thing is certain, this is one bit of stolen "property" who is never returning to you. So sue me, accuse me, plead with the courts that she is rightfully yours ... I'm convinced this is the best "crime" I've ever committed. Hardly anything has pleased me more than the day I stole your dog. I need only look into her beautiful brown eyes to know that she'd defend my decision with her life. If we have one prayer, it is that you will not replace her, and if we have one special day to celebrate together, it is the day I stole your dog and the day she stole my heart. What's the author's attitude towards the former owner of the dog?
Puzzled. Angry. Shocked. Satisfied.