I Found A Lost Dog On The Highway And Called The Number On Its Collar

Sophie arrived within thirty minutes in a battered ute with her aunt. She knelt in the dirt and hugged Pepper while he whined and licked her face. “He has never left Dad’s side,” she whispered. “If he came back alone, something is wrong.” Her aunt called the police, but the officer said the search area had already been cleared, and that they would resume at dawn.

I looked at Pepper. He was pulling hard at my jacket sleeve, eyes fixed on the hills. “Sophie,” I said, “I think he wants us to follow.” Her aunt hesitated, but Sophie grabbed a torch from the ute. I turned off the highway behind the dog, and the three of us walked into the dark bush. Pepper broke into a run, and we followed his white tail until it vanished over a ridge.

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