We didn’t have extra money. Not for something like this.
But walking away didn’t feel like an option.
So we didn’t.
“Mom… they’re still alive.”
We carefully carried the injured dogs into the car, then drove to the local veterinarian (vet). We got there just before he closed for the day. Ethan stood close to me while the dogs were examined one by one.
After a while, the vet let out a slow breath and said, “They’ll live, Mary… but they’ll never walk again.”
Ethan didn’t respond immediately. He just stared at the dogs, as if he were trying to understand something bigger than what he’d just heard.
“They’ll live, Mary.”
Then my son, with a heart of gold, looked up at me.
“Mom, don’t worry. I have an idea.”
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