In 1993, two year old Sasha wandered into our lives more dead than alive. She’d been abandoned and had been on the road for weeks when she limped into our back yard. In no time at all she became a sometimes trying but mostly endearing member of our family. She hated thunderstorms, loved finding the hidden cookie, hated when company came, loved going for walks, hated other dogs, loved fetching balls.

After she had lived with us for several months I decided to write a book inspired by her. “If this book is published,” I told her, “you will have cookies whenever you ask for the rest of your life.”

SABLE was published and Sasha became a very fat dog. We had ten amazing years with her. She plowed through the snow on winter mornings to bring us our paper. She always brought me one slipper when I came in from outside (but never the other).

(Though it looks rather like her, this is not a photo of Sasha but instead a puppy we met in Arkansas many years ago.)

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