Blueberry

Blueberry was her name, but we called her "Blue" for short. She was a well mannered, graceful year old blue Weimreiner mix with gold eyes, but she looked much older. We were driving on desolate Wolf Lane one Sunday and saw dogs bouncing in a roadway ditch; probably chasing bugs. We pulled off the road and the dogs surprisingly approached the truck, with tails wagging.

Next to the road behind a razor sharp tin fence were burned, abandoned trailers and rusty junk cars. Two skinny horses inside the yard wearily approached the fence, while a thin blue dog, a black dog and two mangy puppies danced merrily outside the truck door. The emaciated dogs were in the road, wearing no collars. Their thin coats were worn with sores and calluses. We hastily loaded the dogs into the truck and called for others, but none came. I scattered dog kibble just outside the fence, in case other dumped dogs wandered by, but the hungry horses stuck their necks across the fence and eagerly ate. As we departed this remote area, we called local police and reported the desperate horses. As the dogs curled peacefully in the backseat, they sighed heavily and seemed to know they were finally going home.