Sydney Rye and her dog exact justice, the dog doesn't die, but the bad guys do. Blue was as tall as a Great Dane but skinnier, with the snout of a collie, the markings of a Siberian husky, the ears and tail of a shepherd, and the body of a wolf with one blue eye and one brown. Crouched in a sitting position, unable to lie down or sit all the way up, he looked at me from between the bars, and I fell in love. I adopted Blue from the shelter, and everything in my world changed. When I brought him home, I wanted something in my life that was worth holding on to. I'd just broken up with my boyfriend and picked up a dog-walking gig on the Upper East Side. I was young and lost - normal. I was still Joy Humbolt. I'd never even heard the name Sydney Rye. Never seen a dead body, gotten beat up, or shot at. I didn't set out to be a hero-couldn't have imagined becoming a vigilante. But I don't regret what I've done. The lives I've saved or the ones I've taken.