Jeremy’s heart twisted. He couldn’t let this animal die.
He scooped up the dog’s frail body, holding it close as he hurried inside. The fireplace crackled, casting a warm orange glow across the room, but Jeremy barely noticed. He placed the dog near the fire and wrapped it tightly in a thick blanket, whispering softly, “Stay with me… come on, you’ve made it this far.”
The warmth began to fill the room, but the dog’s condition didn’t improve. Its breaths came shallow, its eyes fluttered weakly. Jeremy watched helplessly, every second stretching unbearably long.
He couldn’t lose it. Not now.
Pacing frantically, Jeremy’s mind raced. The shelter was unreachable. Emergency services were tied up. No one would be coming—not through this storm.
With shaking hands, he grabbed his phone and dialed the only person he could think of. “Ethan,” he said the moment the line picked up, “please—I need help. There’s a dog. It’s dying. It saved two owlets, and now—”
“Calm down, Jeremy. Bring it to the clinic,” his friend replied, voice sharp and steady. “I’ll prep the table now.”
Jeremy didn’t hesitate. He wrapped the dog again, carefully this time, mindful of its fragile frame. Then he grabbed the box with the owlets—now huddled together, tiny heads tucked—and secured them both in the front seat of his truck.
The storm howled around him, wind stinging his cheeks and numbing his fingers. But he didn’t stop. Not once.
With the dog lying still beside him, Jeremy started the engine and pulled out of the driveway, headlights cutting through the snow.