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On the side of the road, I discovered four boxer puppies

I was driving along County Road 12 on a hectic morning when I spotted something unexpected by the roadside—

a group of four muddy, shivering boxer puppies huddled near a ditch.

I was already running late for a big meeting and not in the mood for detours, but I couldn’t just drive past.

There was no sign of a mother dog or nearby home, just the pups and a battered, half-collapsed box

. I pulled over without thinking, scooped the trembling puppies into an old hoodie

I had in the car, and brought them home.

After a quick bath and towel dry,

I planned to scan them for microchips and post in a local lost pets group.

That’s when I noticed a yellow collar on one pup, with a small, handwritten tag hidden beneath the clasp. It read:

“Not Yours.” The words chilled me. Later, my friend Tate, a vet tech, came by. When he saw the tag, his face fell

. He said he’d seen something similar before, but wouldn’t say where.

“These pups might not be as lost as you think,

” 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.

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