Blanca Lucila Briceño Patlanis

Last Monday, a stray dog stood beside me through my entire lunch break, pretending she wasn’t looking at my food. Her head was turned away. Her eyes weren’t. Every time I lifted my fork, she glanced up. If I looked at her, she suddenly found something interesting on the other side of the construction site. She never barked or put her paws on my knee. She just waited. She was thin, with dust caught in her fur. When she turned sideways, I could see she was feeding puppies. I gave her a few pieces of chicken. She ate them, checked the ground for anything she’d missed, then left through a gap in the fence. The next day, she came back as soon as we sat down. One of the guys laughed and said I’d made a friend. By Thursday, I was leaving part of my lunch untouched until she arrived. But she never stayed long afterward. Even when someone else offered more food, she’d sometimes look toward the fence and hurry away. On Friday, I followed her. She stopped twice to look back. I kept my distance. Behind an empty house near the site, she squeezed under a broken section of siding. I crouched down and looked through the gap. Four puppies were tucked against the foundation. The moment she lay down, they scrambled over each other to reach her. She was still panting when they started feeding.