Posted December 25, 2025
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When we first came across Sammy, he was only four months old, yet the weight of what he had endured was already
It was impossible to look at him without wondering how long he had suffered like that. How many hours or days had he wandered, unable to lie down comfortably, unable to escape the tightening grip of the tar as it hardened around him? He could not cry for help, and he could barely move, yet somehow he was still there, still breathing, still holding on. In his eyes, behind the fear and exhaustion, there was something fragile but unmistakable: a quiet will to survive.
From the moment we found him, there was no question about what had to be done. Sammy needed help immediately, and we were determined not to fail him. We carried him gently to the shelter, where veterinarians and volunteers moved quickly, knowing that every moment mattered. The first and most urgent task was removing the tar that had become a prison around his body. It was slow, painstaking work that took hours. Layer by layer, the tar was softened and carefully lifted away, pulling at damaged fur and inflamed skin. Sammy barely reacted, his body too exhausted to resist, but he stayed with us, trusting hands he had only just met.