That morning, Tina had taken the same route she always did, coffee cup balanced in one hand, tote bag tugging at her shoulder. The road was quiet except for a single shape in the ditch: a scruffy dog hunched over something dark.
At first, she barely registered it. Stray dogs weren’t uncommon, and this one looked ragged, patches of fur missing, ribs faintly visible. He was curled tightly around a blanket, nose buried deep, as if hiding something, or trying desperately to warm himself.