Although Hild would have accepted a good dog, a needy dog, without any concern for its appearance, the look of him in the picture immediately softened her heart with sympathy. "The poor creature," she murmured. She saw, too, what the creature could have been, could yet be, if it was given proper food, proper treatment, proper training.

She had had an inkling of why Gannicus felt such kinship with the poor beast, the need to rescue him, but to hear the words aloud only confirmed it. She reached to cup the side of his face, stroking her thumb against his cheekbone. "He will live a full and happy life with us," Hild promised. "All are loved here."