He was shaking in my arms when I picked him up—tiny, warm, with those big brown eyes like he already knew he was safe. The lady from the shelter barely asked me anything. Said, “First come, first served,” and handed me the papers to sign.I didn’t even make it halfway home before my phone rangA man on the other end said he was “the rightful owner” and that the puppy had been stolen from his yard two days ago. I thought it was some kind of scam until he described the little white patch on the pup’s back leg. Then he sent me a photo. Same dog. Same face.I pulled over, heart pounding. I looked down at this little bundle who had just started to relax in my lap. He was finally breathing slow. He was finally home.
