“I’ll name you…” Hannah thought. “Be… Poodle.”

The little dog didn’t respond.

“Just in time. Right?” she said. “In time, you’ll trust me again.”

The doctor at the clinic just shook his head.

— Twilight, he… this animal hasn’t been eating properly for weeks. Look at his fur. His skin is matted. No wonder it hurts him every time he moves.

— Can we euthanize him by shaving it all off?

— Yes. But first… I need to examine him. It might already be too late.

Twilight gently stroked the dog’s head as the doctor administered the anesthetic.

— You came from hell, but something new begins now. I promise.

As the fur fell off, Pooch finally became visible. A tiny, little dog, around five years old. Thin, but full of life. The doctor shook his head again.

— Twelve teeth need to be removed.

— Let’s do it — Twilight nodded. — Everything. As long as there’s hope, we fight.

After the tooth extractions came the injections. Her skin was inflamed from allergies. Antibiotics, painkillers, vitamins. And of course, sterilization and neutering, like with all rescued dogs.

Pötyi still didn’t bark. Didn’t play. He just watched.

But he no longer wanted to sink into the ground. He no longer waited to die.

He followed Twilight’s movements.

And that meant something.