” He warned. We scanned for microchips. Only the puppy with the yellow collar had one—registered years ago to a vet clinic several counties away. The staff had no updated owner info. These puppies couldn’t have been more than eight weeks old.

Tate eventually shared more: “There are people who breed dogs for reasons you don’t want to know. That collar might be a warning.” He hinted at possible links to dogfighting rings or worse. I kept the puppies hidden at my place for four days,

too nervous to post anything online. Late one night, I heard tires on my gravel driveway. Two men got out of a weathered truck—one holding a leash, the other a flashlight. Panicked, I grabbed the puppies and locked us in the bathroom. I texted my neighbor Jessa, asking her to call the sheriff if anything seemed off.

I heard muffled voices outside and a loud knock. One man muttered, “They’re not here… probably taken to the pound.” The other growled, “We will find them—if they’re still alive.” That last line hit me hard. Eventually, they left. I waited another hour before unlocking the bathroom. Jessa later confirmed the sheriff was on his way.