Every morning, I’d walk out to the garden and come back frustrated—carrots chewed down to nubs, lettuce uprooted, bean vines gnawed to the stem. I was convinced some clever animal was sneaking in at night. I set up motion lights, even installed a trail cam. I expected raccoons, maybe a fox, even a hungry deer. What I didn’t expect was the truth—one that would quietly break my heart and put it back together. Then one morning, my dog Runa didn’t show up for breakfast. She’s always been independent, more wild than tame. Even as a pup, she’d refuse to come...
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