On a hectic morning drive down County Road 12, I spotted four muddy, shivering boxer puppies huddled by a ditch. Though late for an important meeting, I couldn’t just pass by. With no mother dog or nearby homes in sight, I scooped them up, wrapped them in an old hoodie, and brought them home. After cleaning them, I noticed one pup wearing a yellow collar with a chilling handwritten tag that read: “Not Yours.”

My friend Tate, a vet tech, came over to help. When he saw the tag, his face darkened. We scanned the pups for microchips—only the one with the yellow collar had one, linked to an old vet clinic with no updated owner info. Tate finally admitted he’d seen similar cases connected to dangerous groups like dogfighting rings. His warning was clear: these puppies weren’t just lost—they might be part of something sinister.

Too scared to post online, I hid the puppies at my house for four days. Late one night, I heard tires crunching on my gravel driveway. Two men stepped out of a beat-up truck, one with a leash, the other with a flashlight. Heart racing, I grabbed the puppies and locked us in the bathroom. I texted my neighbor Jessa, begging her to call the sheriff if anything went wrong.

The men knocked loudly, muttering outside. One said, “They’re not here… probably taken to the pound.” The other growled, “We will find them—if they’re still alive.” Their words sent chills down my spine. Eventually, they left, and I waited an hour before emerging. Jessa later confirmed the sheriff was on his way, but I knew this was far from over.