“I wonder where he found it. Justin would never let him into Lazy’s kitchen, and even then…”
“I hope he doesn’t go through people’s garbage. Who knows what he could find there.”
Oh shit. Yes.Feeling both worried and proud of Moose, I watch as the mamma dog shakes her puppies off her. Standing on wobbly feet, she wolfs down what Moose set next to her.
“Wonder how rotten that meat was,” I say as she lies back down with a satisfied grunt, letting her puppies crawl hungrily over her.
Moose turns toward us and whines, then turns back to the litter, running half circles from one side of the boulder to the other, defining a perimeter he seems to protect for his little family.
Noah smiles. “Never seen a dog in love before.”
“So sweet. How are we gonna do this?” I ask.
“No idea.”
Something passes between us. We don’t need words as we decide to take this dog family under our protection.
“Mom is going to be worried, might even get aggressive, if we try to take her puppies. Let me see how close to her I can get.”
“Careful, though,” Noah says, strain in his voice.
“Hey,” I whisper, getting on all fours and crawling gently to her.
She raises her head for a beat, then drops it, panting.
“How you feelin’? Not great, huh?”
“I’m calling Justin,” Noah says softly.
“Hey, sweetie,” I coo while Moose continues his semi circles in front of the hollow cave, now encompassing me. That has to be good, right? I’m in the protected zone. Part of them. Surely she understands that.
When I’m close enough that I could touch her, I lie down on the soft moss of the forest floor, still alert. Just because Moose trusts me doesn’t mean she will. The three puppies’ eyes are closed. They aren’t walking yet and barely crawling. They’re only a few days old, if that. Their pink tongues dart out in the most adorable way, and their chests lift with rapid breaths.
My attention quickly shifts to the mom. Under the deceitfully ample fur, she’s extremely thin, bones poking, ribcage showing. Her back leg bulges at an unnatural angle—likely a poorly-healed break.
“We need to get her to the vet,” I say softly to Noah, who relays the information to Justin.
Then, purposely ignoring the puppies so I don’t worry her, I stroke her paws, then scratch her side. When she’s groaning in contentment with eyes half closed, I risk sitting up.
Her eyes dart open.
“Hey,” I whisper and move my hand up her back to scratch between her shoulder blades. She gives me satisfied grunts.
Moose lies down three feet from us, head on his paws. The puppies fall asleep, two right next to me, tucked against her belly, and one hiding between her front paws.
“This is good,” Noah whispers. “Let her get used to your scent so she trusts you.”
Less than an hour later, Justin and Chloe arrive with a crate, a wheelbarrow, and blankets in both. “Trail is too narrow for anything else,” Justin explains in a low voice. “Think she’ll let us fit her in there?”
The mamma dog barely lifts her head at their voices. My eyes fill with tears. “We gotta hurry. Bring the crate.”
Chloe hands me the crate, spreading the blanket. “Hey, mom,” I coo, “we’re going on a little family trip, okay?”
She lifts her head as I softly pick up each puppy. She half grunts, but there’s no fight in her gaze.
“Let’s go,” I snap. There’s no time to lose.
Noah grabs the crate while Justin positions the wheelbarrow next to me. I lift momma dog in my arms—as I suspected, she’s much lighter than she looks—and place her as comfortably as I can. “I’ll walk next to her,” I say.
