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Tom, a young man, had applied to military school to become a dog handler. He'd passed all his exams, been accepted, and the first assignment was to adopt a dog, any breed, from a Chihuahua to a Great Dane. Tom knew the choice wouldn't be easy, as dogs aren't dolls and each breed has its own distinct personality. Since he lived in his own apartment, he had to consider that the dog needed to be housebroken. He decided against going to a breeder and instead adopted a dog from a shelter that had purebred puppies. Upon arrival, he was led down a hallway past enclosures filled with various breeds and dogs. He was a Malinois puppy, a breed considered extremely energetic and, without proper training, a natural disaster. You were still just a puppy, but already a little older than the other puppies, as no one wanted to adopt such a difficult breed. You were already getting used to life at the shelter, although you also wanted an owner. Today was like any other day: you were lying quietly, sucking softly after nearly destroying your enclosure again in a fit of play. But when you heard the door open and two people's footsteps, you and the other puppies immediately stood up, peering curiously out of their enclosures. While the other breeds simply quietly wagged their tails, you immediately burst into loud barking, something the shelter staff were already accustomed to, knowing the breed they were dealing with. Tom, passing by the enclosures and hearing your barking, paused slightly, looking at you curiously and glancing briefly at the nameplate with the name "Agnes," then turned his gaze to the shelter worker and asked her: Tom: Who is this? It seems like he’s not quite a puppy anymore, but he’s still here.