I wasn’t planning to stop. It was already a rough morning, and I was late to meet a client. But there they were—four little boxer pups huddled next to a ditch on County Road 12, shaking like leaves and covered in mud. I pulled over without thinking.
No mom in sight. No house nearby. Just them and an empty box half-collapsed in the grass. I used an old hoodie to scoop them up and place them in my car. Three of them were completely unmarked, but when I picked up the fourth, I noticed a tiny red collar around its neck, worn and fraying, with a small brass tag attached.
