It was a cold afternoon when we received an urgent call for help from the satellite road near the Second Hospital in Harbin. A distressed voice on the other end described a dog abandoned on the staff passage, and I muttered to myself, “Alas, in the middle of the pandemic.” It seemed like there were more urgent matters at hand, but the suffering of this poor dog couldn’t wait. We gathered ourselves and hurried to the scene, hoping to make a difference for the animal in need.

As we neared the location, one of the volunteers remarked, “We haven’t had a request like this in over a month.” It was clear that something was different about this case, and everyone was on edge. We could sense the tension in the air. When we arrived, I immediately approached the eyewitness and asked, “Whose dog is this?” The person responded helplessly, “I don’t know.” It was an unfortunate start, but we couldn’t let that discourage us.

The eyewitness explained, “She was right here when I came out.” I pressed further, trying to gather more details about the situation. “Somebody abandoned the dog here?” I asked, but the reply was the same, “I don’t know.” It seemed that no one knew much about the dog’s origins, but the situation was becoming more dire by the minute. Another volunteer chimed in, saying, “It’s been two days,” clearly frustrated. “We’ve been looking for the owner for two or three days,” they added. It was heartbreaking to hear how the dog had been left without proper care for so long.

As we tried to piece together the story, the volunteers shared their small efforts to comfort the dog. “The big sister from unit #1 provided a little pad for her,” one of them mentioned, referring to a small act of kindness. “The auntie from unit #2 brought dog food to her,” another volunteer added. Despite these gestures, the dog wouldn’t stay inside the box. “But she wouldn’t stay inside the box,” someone sighed, describing how restless the poor dog had become. It was clear she was frightened and confused, struggling to find some sense of security.

One volunteer handed me a small dish. “This is the chicken liver that we fed her,” they said. It was a modest meal, but it seemed to provide some comfort to the dog. “Maybe a lost dog who had an owner?” I pondered aloud, wondering if there had been a mistake somewhere along the way. “Looks like so,” someone nearby agreed. It seemed plausible that this dog had once been loved, but now she was abandoned and alone. I made the decision to take her to a safer place. “Let’s go. She doesn’t guard food or bite,” I noted. I felt a sense of urgency as the temperature was dropping, and I couldn’t bear the thought of her suffering outside overnight.

As we prepared to move her, I reminded the group, “The temperature is going to drop tonight. She won’t survive outside for sure. It’s too cold.” We needed to act quickly, and I made sure the dog had everything she needed. “We are giving away the dog food and bowl,” I instructed, ensuring that nothing was left behind that could help her survive. “Thank you, sis,” someone said gratefully, acknowledging the efforts being made to protect the animal. But there was still more work to be done.