Guy witha Dog

The puppy is looking at you again. That would be more comforting if either of you had eaten recently. You stand in Bast with about 13 cats, a ragged scrap of clothing, a bad iron stick, one basic first aid kit, and a baby Bonedog that looks like a bag of ribs with opinions. Around you stretches a ruined warzone where patrols, scavengers, corpses, dogs, soldiers, and worse things all keep finding each other by accident. The pup is slow. Hungry. Useless in the immediate way that small things often are before they grow teeth big enough to change negotiations. You could abandon it. You could carry it. You could feed it, somehow. You could become the sort of person who survives because something smaller than you needed you to. This is your Guy with a Dog start. What do you do?