Lynn pushed on her front door a bit, and it squeaked on its hinges. She knew she’d locked it and shut it firmly behind her when she left this morning, but there it was. Open.
She wondered briefly if she should call the police before deciding against it. That would likely cause more trouble than it was worth. She gave a soft cough, and entered.
Nothing looked wrong or out of place. Her belt still hung on the back of the chair nearest the door, and she noticed that she’d left the ranch dressing on the table. Her left hand absentmindedly reached to pick it up, and that’s when she saw it.
The tiny baby puppy cowering beneath the kitchen table, shivering.
Lynn had no way of knowing if someone had left the poor thing, or let it in, or if her door had malfunctioned and opened just enough for it to seek refuge, but she wasn’t arguing.
She carefully set the bottle of dressing back on the table and lay down on the floor, inching closer and closer to the dog. Finally, she was close enough to reach out a hand and pet its soft, damp fur. The puppy snuggled into her touch, seemingly unafraid. She scooped it up and held it against her chest, trying to warm it.
In a few minutes, the puppy fell asleep, and Lynn had fallen in love. She never forgot the day that her door was just a little bit open when she came home from work, and she loved little Bradley for a very long time.