It was an unusually warm afternoon in early spring when I first noticed the commotion outside my front gate. The sun cast long shadows across the driveway, and birds chirped optimistically in the budding trees. As I peered out from my living room window, I saw her—a visibly pregnant dog, her belly swollen with impending life, trotting unsteadily toward the gate. Her eyes were a mixture of panic and determination, a silent plea for help that was immediately understood.
This dog, a mix of breeds with a coat the color of autumn leaves, looked exhausted. She hesitated at the gate, casting glances back and forth as if weighing up her options. But then, as if deciding that she had finally found her refuge, she let out a series of plaintive whimpers that were unmistakable in their urgency.