The older dog whimpered and pawed at his sleeve, then pressed its head into Ethan’s lap as if it somehow understood. Every bump in the road made Ethan flinch, terrified the breathing would stop. When the van screeched to a halt outside the clinic, Ethan jumped out before the door was fully open. The older pup bolted after him, barking sharply.
“Inside!” one of the officers shouted. The vet, already waiting, gestured to a metal table under a bright lamp. “Here, quickly!” she said. She worked fast: oxygen tube, compressions, a shot of fluids. “Dehydrated, hypothermic, and that leg’s in bad shape,” she muttered, barely audible over the rustle of her instruments.