“Hey, amigo,” she whispered, crouching down. She broke off a piece of the bread she’d bought. The dog flinched at first, then sniffed the air. Slowly, painfully, he crawled forward and took the bread from her hand with a gentleness that surprised her.

Mia named him Sol, because despite the storm, he was the first bit of light she’d felt all week. She couldn’t bring him inside—her father, a hardworking farmer who saw animals as tools for labor or threats to livestock, would never allow it. So Mia built Sol a small shelter against the back wall of their goat shed, using an old wooden crate, a tattered blanket, and a sheet of tin for a roof.

To apply this to your pet, ask yourself: