The animal control van roared to life, gravel spitting from its tires as it tore down the narrow road from the station. Inside, the air was thick with urgency. Ethan sat in the back, shirt streaked with dirt and sweat, the smaller puppy resting on a towel in his hands. The older one paced in tight circles beside him, whining nonstop, its nose pressed against its brother’s side.
The driver called over his shoulder. “We’ve radioed ahead. The vet’s ready for us!” The smaller pup gave a pitiful sound. Half a whine, half a gasp. Its chest rose faintly, then fell again. Ethan swallowed hard. “Hang in there, little guy,” he murmured, voice trembling. “Just stay with us.”