Hello everyone. Today, we received a call for help from Satellite Road near the Second Hospital in Harbin.
A distressed voice reported that a dog had been abandoned in the staff corridor. “Right in the middle of a pandemic,” I thought as we hurried to the scene.
“It’s been over a month since we had a request like this,” someone remarked nervously as we got closer. “Hello,” I greeted the witness, eager to piece together the story. “Whose dog is this?” I asked. “I don’t know,” came the helpless reply.
“She was here when I left,” the witness explained. I pressed further, “Did someone abandon the dog here?” Their response remained uncertain, “I don’t know,” they repeated. “It’s been two days now,” added another volunteer, expressing their frustration over their unsuccessful search for the owner.
“The older sister from Unit No. 1 gave the dog a small blanket,” someone mentioned, listing efforts to provide comfort. “The aunt from Unit No. 2 brought dog food,” another person shared, describing acts of kindness. “But she won’t stay in the box,” sighed someone else, highlighting the dog’s restlessness.
“This is the chicken liver we gave her,” a volunteer pointed out, indicating the small amount of food. “Could this be a lost dog that once had an owner?” I wondered aloud. “It seems so,” agreed someone nearby. “Let’s go. She doesn’t eat or even nibble,” I noted, deciding to take her to a safer place. “The temperature will drop tonight,” I warned, concerned for her well-being. “She likely won’t survive outside. It’s too cold.”
“We’re handing out the dog’s food and bowl,” I instructed, ensuring she had everything she needed. “Thank you, sister,” someone said gratefully as we prepared to relocate her. “I’ll head to the dog daycare and try to find the owner,” I announced, hopeful for a reunion. “She won’t make it outside,” I reiterated, moved by her vulnerability.