His nails were worn unevenly.
There were scrapes across one ankle.
And the position of his pelvis did not look right.
I had learned enough during rescues to recognize when something frightened me without knowing exactly why.
“This didn’t happen yesterday,” I whispered.
The woman behind me said, “Someone dumped him yesterday afternoon.”
I looked over my shoulder.
“You saw them?”
“Not exactly. He just wasn’t there before.”
That distinction mattered.
I was angry, but anger could wait.
Facts came first.
He might have been left there.
He might have crawled there.
He might have escaped from somewhere.
I did not know.
What I did know was that the dog in front of me had been suffering far longer than twenty-four hours.Shop Dog Food
I slid the blanket beside him.
“I’m going to move you.”
His eyes followed my hands.
I touched his shoulder first.
No growl.
