I had parked my bike to make a repair when I heard whimpering. In all my years riding, I’d never encountered anything like it.
The first note spoke of putting her down. The second was in childlike handwriting, written in purple crayon:
“Please save Daisy. She’s all I have left. Daddy says she has to die but I know angels ride motorcycles. I prayed you’d find her. There’s $7.43 in her collar. It’s all my tooth fairy money. Please don’t let her die alone. Love, Madison, age 7.”
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