When Gabby stepped into the shelter the next morning, the usual chaos greeted her—barking, clanging bowls, busy staff—but one sound was missing. Juno. He lay motionless in his kennel, head down, untouched food in the corner. He hadn’t made a single sound since the night before. Not one.
Gabby crouched beside the bars, whispering his name, offering a treat. Nothing. His ears didn’t twitch. His tail didn’t move. She’d never seen him like this—completely hollowed out. Her heart ached. She couldn’t just wait. If no one else would fix this, she’d have to try herself.