A dog, 63 days pregnant, runs to my gate, desperately seeking help.
It was an unusually warm afternoon in early spring when I first noticed the commotion outside my front gate. The sun cast long shadows across the driveway, and birds chirped optimistically in the budding trees. As I peered out from my living room window, I saw her—a visibly pregnant dog, her belly swollen with impending life, trotting unsteadily toward the gate. Her eyes were a mixture of panic and determination, a silent plea for help that was immediately understood. This…