洛里·S.莫尔/Lori S.Mohr
The hastily scrawled sign on the crumpled cardboard read：BROKE-NEED DOG FOOD. The desperate young man held the sign in one hand and a leash in the other as he paced back and forth on the busy corner in downtown Las Vegas.
Attached to the leash was a husky pup no more than a year old. Not far from them was an older dog of the same breed, chained to a lamppost. He was howling into the brisk chill of the approaching winter evening, with a wail that could be heard for blocks. It was as though he knew his own fate, for the sign that was propped next to him read：FOR SALE.
Forgetting about my own destination, I quickly turned the car around and made a beeline back toward the homeless trio. For years, I‘ve kept dog and cat food in the trunk of my car for strayor hungry animals I often fnd. It’s been a way of helping those I couldn‘t takein. It’s also what Ive used to coax many a scared dog off the road to safety. Helping needy animals has always been an automatic decision for me.
I pulled into the nearest parking lot and grabbed a five pound bag of dog food, a container of water and a twenty-dollar bill from my purse. I approached the ragged-looking man and his unhappy dogs warily. If this man had somehow hurt these creatures or was using them as come-ons, I knew my anger would quickly take over. The older dog was staring up at the sky, whining pitifully. Just before I reached them, a truck pulled up alongside of them and asked how much the man wanted for the older dog.
“Fifty bucks，”the man on the corner replied, then added quickly，“but I really dont want to sell him.”
“Is he papered?”
“No.”
“Is he fxed?”
“No.”
“How old is he?”
“Five. But I really dont want to sell him. I just need some money to feed him.”
“If I had ffty bucks, Id buy him.”The light turned green, and the truck sped off.
The man shook his head and continued dejectedly pacing the sidewalk. When he noticed me coming in his direction, he stopped walking and watched me approach. The pup began wagging his tail.