The first time I smashed a car window to save a dog, I was nineteen years old and still in training.

“She stopped moving!” he yelled.

I looked through the rear window and immediately knew we were out of time.

The Golden Retriever was sprawled across the back seat unnaturally still. No barking. No scratching. No panic.

That’s the dangerous part people don’t understand.

When dogs stop fighting, they’re close to dying.