The highway was eerily silent, the only sound the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. I glanced nervously around, half expecting someone to emerge from the shadows to claim the dog. But there was no one, just Max and me. I took a deep breath and knelt down beside him. He sniffed my hand cautiously, then leaned in, pressing his body against me, seeking comfort and assurance.

I knew then that I couldn’t leave him there. The thought of abandoning him, as someone else had done, was unacceptable. I untied the rope from the fence and gently guided Max to my car. He hesitated for a moment, then jumped into the back seat, settling down with a sigh as if relieved his ordeal was over.

As I drove, I couldn’t help but glance back at Max through the rearview mirror. He seemed to be relaxing, his eyes drooping as the tension ebbed away. I wondered about his family, what circumstances had led them to this heartbreaking decision. Perhaps they had fallen on hard times, forced to make an impossible choice. Or maybe they were running from something — or someone — unable to take Max with them.