After 32 years in the city, I, Maya, moved to a quiet neighborhood seeking peace and the chance to write. My closest neighbor, Mrs. Harrington, a woman in her 60s, lived in a dilapidated house that intrigued me. However, it was her routine that truly captivated my curiosity—every day at 9 a.m. and 9 p.m., she would visit a small, rusty shack nearby, carrying two shopping bags.

I grew obsessed, wondering what she was doing there. Was she hiding something? After three days of watching, I decided to investigate. When I approached the shack, Mrs. Harrington bolted out, furious and demanding I stay away. Her reaction only fueled my curiosity.

Determined to find out the truth, I waited until she was inside one night and snuck over. To my surprise, I found the shack locked, but a small gap allowed me to peek inside. My heart sank at the sight—dozens of thin, weary dogs were cramped inside.

I tried to break in, desperate to save them. Just then, Mrs. Harrington appeared, her eyes filled with desperation. “Please, you don’t understand,” she pleaded. “I’m saving them.”

For illustrative purpose only. (Freepik)

Confused, I listened as she explained. She rescued abandoned dogs, but couldn’t bring them into her home due to allergies. My anger subsided as I realized her intentions were good.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” I asked.

“I’ve seen shelters put animals down or abandon them,” she replied.

“I can help,” I offered. Together, we arranged for my brother-in-law, a vet, to treat the dogs and find them homes. I took in a couple of puppies myself, finally feeling the companionship I longed for.

In the end, our bond grew stronger as we worked together for the dogs’ welfare. What would you have done?