“Did they say who’s been caring for the dog?”

One side of Rhonda’s mouth turned down in something between a frown and a grimace. “From what she said, her cousin lived alone. And he didn’t leave a will. His property’s in limbo.” She sighed and tossed a rag over her shoulder. “The really sad part is apparently none of his relatives knew he had a dog till her daughter and boyfriend came to check out the flooding and poke around in his yard. That was the day before they called us. They were concerned that the dog wasn’t being cared for, and the woman spent the afternoon making calls to see who’d been left in charge of the dog, but no one was. When the kids went back to check on him the next day, the water had come up and they couldn’t get him out.”

Olivia locked a hand over her chest. Her knees were on the verge of buckling. “You mean the beautiful dog was locked in that pen with no one caring for him for over three weeks?”

Rhonda squeezed her shoulder. “I’d like to say time in the business makes these things easier to hear, but it didn’t for me. Heartbreaking as it is, it was twenty-five days if you take into account the man’s hospitalization before he passed.”

Ava clamped a hand over her mouth. “How did he survive without food and water?”

“In cases like this, all I can say is put it to God or good fortune, whichever drives you.”

“Where is he?” Olivia took off for the center row of crates where she’d last seen him, but he wasn’t there.

“He’s on the end by the door. Thought it might help him to see out.”

Olivia noticed his spotted-liver paw pressing against the metal door of the crate and headed over with Ava following close behind. “There you are, sweet boy.” Olivia sank onto her heels and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Remember me, buddy? Probably not, I’m guessing.”

As if asserting that he did, the pointer stood up and let out a single baritone “Woof.”

His docked tail was wagging with the consistency of a set of wiper blades set to high, making Olivia laugh.

“I think he does,” Ava said. “Look at the way he’s looking at you.”

“Can I walk him?” Olivia directed to Rhonda.

“Be my guest. But have your sister stand guard behind you while you clip on his leash. If he gets away, I don’t think he’ll stick around. And be aware. He pulls hard enough to lead a sled team when he has the mind to.”

Olivia let him sniff her hand through the bars first, then she jogged over for one of several leashes hung on an eyebolt sticking out of the wooden frame at the edge of the sliding doors.