time we needed.
I told Mabel the story from the beginning. The gate. The frost. The chicken on the kitchen floor. The first vet visit. The surrender papers. The support group. The snowstorm. The way she’d taught me not to hide my shaking hand.
Lucy asked if Mabel was scared.
I answered carefully.
“I think she knows she is loved.”
Lucy nodded.
“That helps continue reading …