I was driving down County Road 12 on a hectic morning when something caught my eye near the shoulderโa cluster of four
muddy, visibly shaking boxer puppies nestled close together beside a ditch. I was already running behind for an important
meeting and wasnโt in the mood for any delays, but I couldnโt bring myself to just keep going.
There was no mother dog around, no nearby housesโjust the puppies and a crumpled, half-fallen cardboard box.Without
thinking, I pulled over, grabbed an old hoodie from the back seat, and carefully bundled the trembling pups inside before
heading back home. Once there, I gave them a quick rinse and gently dried them off with towels.
My next step was to scan for microchips and post about them in a local lost pet group. Thatโs when I noticed one of the puppies
wore a worn yellow collar. Tucked underneath was a small metal tag with a handwritten message that sent a chill through me:
โNot Yours.โ Later that day, my friend Tate dropped by. Heโs a vet tech and tends to notice things I wouldnโt.
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