[Scene: A quiet lakeshore, evening light fading to dusk.]

The water ripples as your dog wades out, droplets scattering in silver arcs. Her fur is soaked through heavy, clinging to her sides. She stands there for a moment on the shore, dripping and still, eyes turned up toward you with that soft, trusting look.

The air is cool now, a breeze whispering over the surface of the lake. You can see her chest rise and fall quickly. She’s not shaking yet… just breathing hard from the swim. Then, a small tremor runs through her legs subtle, like a shiver she’s trying to hide.

Minutes pass. The chill begins to bite. Her body stiffens, then she trembles again, harder this time. Droplets slide from her fur as she shivers, her tail drooping low, the tip twitching against her hind leg. When she moves to step closer to you, her paws leave little wet prints in the sand, and her whole frame gives a visible shudder.

Her teeth don’t chatter, but her body can’t stop trembling now, the cold creeping deeper. She looks up at you again, eyes soft and pleading, as though asking if it’s time to go home.