I didn’t know exactly what I was afraid of—until something happened that confirmed my fears.
Late one night, I heard the crunch of tires in my gravel driveway.
I peeked out and saw an old, beat-up truck parked outside.
Two men stepped out—one with a leash, the other holding a flashlight.
Heart pounding, I gathered the puppies and locked us in the bathroom. I quickly texted my neighbor Jessa, asking her to contact the sheriff if anything seemed suspicious.
From the bathroom, I could hear voices outside and a heavy knock on the door. “They’re not here… probably taken to the shelter,” one voice said.
The other added darkly, “We’ll find them—if they’re still alive.” That last line froze me.
I stayed put until well after their truck pulled away.
About an hour later, I finally unlocked the door.
Jessa confirmed the sheriff was en route.
