This is a wonderful dog story, and a great story about a lonely girl who liked to read.
The first time I read an entire book aloud, it was to a German shorthaired pointer named Sally. She had the softest ears, the wiggliest butt, and man, was she fast. I used to watch her from my swing-set, tearing mad circles around our neighbor’s yard.
I was a quiet kid. And in Charlotte, North Carolina in the mid-1990s, if you didn’t like NASCAR, there wasn’t a ton to do. I remember spending half a summer fiddling around with my dad’s scientific calculator, pretending I was a bookstore clerk and tallying up imaginary purchases. I’d also meticulously cut out borrower’s cards for each of my books, then lent them out strategically to my mother. So, when Sally moved in next door, it was a revelation.
She brought me pinecones in the afternoon. And I brought her books.
I’d plop myself in the grass, right by the…
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