The ropes pulled tightly around its shoulders and paws, its fur was matted, and the animal was breathing heavily, growling as if asking for help.

Cars rushed past: some honked, some filmed with their phones, but no one stopped. My conscience pricked me so sharply that I turned on my hazard lights, set up a warning triangle, and took gloves and an emergency belt cutter from the trunk.

I approached slowly, repeating out loud the same words: “Easy… I’m here, buddy.” The bear jerked, growled, but didn’t attack. In its amber eyes I saw not anger, but desperate exhaustion.