I ended up with a truck full of puppies after stopping for gas in the middle of nowhere

She paused before responding. “Well, down the road there’s a woman named Ruth. She manages a network of foster homes for stray animals. She could possibly take kids in, or at least help you find the proper person.

I thanked the manager and went to Ruth’s address because she sounded like my best shot. My GPS sent me to a little farmhouse encircled by fenced-in fields and undulating hills. A grizzled old border collie sat on the porch steps, as chickens ran free in the yard.

Ruth herself, grinning kindly and dressed in overalls, answered the door. Her hands were rough from years of labor, and her silver hair was pulled back in a loose bun. Her face softened even more when I told her why I was there.

She gestured for me to come into the kitchen. “We should see those infants.”

Ruth listened carefully as I told her everything, from how I found the puppies in the parking lot of the gas station to how packed the shelter was, over coffee and baked oatmeal cookies. Occasionally, she would reach out to stroke behind the ears of the dog that occurred to crawl onto her lap while nodding knowingly.

At last, she remarked, “You’re lucky to have found these poor things.” However, nurturing requires a certain form of endurance. Would you be open to trying it?

I blinked. “Me? Encourage them?

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