I never expected anything unusual on that quiet bridge at 3 AM, until I heard a faint whimper.
There she was — an older Golden Retriever with gentle eyes and a worn stuffed duck beside her.
Two notes hung from her collar: one begging not to let her suffer, the other written in crayon.
It read, “Please save Daisy. I prayed a motorcycle angel would find her.” In that moment, my heart felt heavy — not from anger, but from compassion.
