Mogi looks like a dog who has never had it easy. Eight years old. Underweight. Skin so inflamed and uncomfortable that you can tell he's been fighting infections for a long time. His little body is tired. His coat is patchy and sore. His eyes are irritated and rolled inward. His ears are painful. There's even a large mass hanging from his chest. He looks neglected. Like life has not been kind to him. But when I met him? No aggression. Not a single growl. Not a snap. Not even a bark. Just a stiff, unsure older shepherd mix standing there in the cutest little green jacket, like he was quietly hoping someone would finally see him. He took treats gently. He allowed touch. He was cautious, yes. Shut down. Overwhelmed. But staff even told me they have not seen aggression from him.