We were driving toward the Mattaponi Reservation on a narrow two lane road that cuts a thin asphalt swath through farmland that was frozen and dun-colored. It was late January and there wasn’t a hint of spring and the temperature, even in the early afternoon, hovered near freezing. Rebecca saw her first coming out of a clump of woods, an island of trees and underbrush in the fallow field. She saw a little face fitted with eyes wide and dark. When I turned to look my eyes made contact with a small animal that crept out of the woods. It could have been a cat, it was that small, but when I pulled off into the drainage ditch we both realized it was a dog. It was unlike any dog I had ever seen. As I approached the dog she started moving toward me, a little beagle who at first seemed like a puppy. She had a blue merle coat and was shaking on frail hind legs. Her tail was curled back up under her. One eye was clear; the other coated with a film giving it the appearance of a raw oyster. I went back to the Jeep and grabbed a towel from the back seat and swaddled her in it then picked her up and cradled her in my arms. That’s when I noticed how thin she was. I could see the entire rosary of her spine through her pelt and every rib showed through her sides like corn rows in a field. There was no belly. She could have been used in an osteology exhibit of canines—you could see every bone that clearly.

Rebecca held her on her lap as we made our way back to Richmond. She held her like a baby and stroked the head that seemed disproportionately large for the body. This little beagle, who we named Mattie, didn’t as much as whimper during the entire trip home.

Back at our house in Bellevue, Mattie ran with little speed to the porch next door and then moved to the safety under our porch where she found a depression in the loose soil and curled into it. After some coaxing we got her out and took her inside where she immediately found Sophie’s enclosed kitty litter and climbed into it as if it were a doghouse. She was curled among the kitty litter, she liked small confined spaces. She must have felt safety there. Rebecca noticed, when Mattie ran, that there was something wrong with her hips. “She might have been hit by a car or kicked or something,” she said.

We were driving toward the Mattaponi Reservation on a narrow two lane road that cuts a thin asphalt swath through farmland that was frozen and dun-colored. It was late January and there wasn’t a hint of spring and the temperature, even in the early afternoon, hovered near freezing. Rebecca saw her first coming out of a clump of woods, an island of trees and underbrush in the fallow field. She saw a little face fitted with eyes wide and dark. When I turned to look my eyes made contact with a small animal that crept out of the woods. It could have been a cat, it was that small, but when I pulled off into the drainage ditch we both realized it was a dog. It was unlike any dog I had ever seen. As I approached the dog she started moving toward me, a little beagle who at first seemed like a puppy. She had a blue merle coat and was shaking on frail hind legs. Her tail was curled back up under her. One eye was clear; the other coated with a film giving it the appearance of a raw oyster. I went back to the Jeep and grabbed a towel from the back seat and swaddled her in it then picked her up and cradled her in my arms. That’s when I noticed how thin she was. I could see the entire rosary of her spine through her pelt and every rib showed through her sides like corn rows in a field. There was no belly. She could have been used in an osteology exhibit of canines—you could see every bone that clearly.

Rebecca held her on her lap as we made our way back to Richmond. She held her like a baby and stroked the head that seemed disproportionately large for the body. This little beagle, who we named Mattie, didn’t as much as whimper during the entire trip home.

Back at our house in Bellevue, Mattie ran with little speed to the porch next door and then moved to the safety under our porch where she found a depression in the loose soil and curled into it. After some coaxing we got her out and took her inside where she immediately found Sophie’s enclosed kitty litter and climbed into it as if it were a doghouse. She was curled among the kitty litter, she liked small confined spaces. She must have felt safety there. Rebecca noticed, when Mattie ran, that there was something wrong with her hips. “She might have been hit by a car or kicked or something,” she said.