Connie Pabey

The first time I saw Doty it was 10 degrees below zero and she was foraging for food with two other dogs on a service road along a busy highway in Chicago.

I was driving a food truck and had just finished a delivery to a place on Doty Road. As I hurried along to my next scheduled stop, I watched an enormous brown German shepherd with two puppies trotting down the road. The mother was so thin her skin had sunk into her rib cage-and the puppies didn’t look much better.

As I drove forward, one of the pups went into the frozen weeds on the side of the highway while the mother and sibling continued down Doty Road. To my horror a semi-truck was headed in my direction. As it came closer, the pup turned back to the road directly in front of the truck. Within seconds, I stopped my vehicle, jumped out, and grabbed the startled puppy. There was no harm done to either of us, but now I was stuck with a dog that I did not want.

The mother had already disappeared from view, and I was left holding the most pitiful animal I had ever seen. Her body was covered with sores and there was no hair on her to even determine what colour she was. But I couldn’t just leave her to fend for herself, so I grabbed a steak sandwich from the back of my food truck, wrapped the puppy in a scarf I had around my neck, and headed to my next stop. The smell of this sorrowful-looking canine was more than I could tolerate.