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leaned into her side.
    â€œWhat kind of neighbor complains about a dog?” I asked. “It’s not like other dogs never come on our property. They get into the compost and dig up the garden. But we never complain.”
    Sable panted softly, staring off into the snowy woods.
    Mam turned on the radio loud. Pots and pans clanked in the kitchen.
    When Pap came in for a cup of coffee, Mam gave him an earful.
    Pap listened, hardly saying a word. When Mam’s storm had blown itself out, Pap left the kitchen, heading straight for the shed. He found a heavy chain, hanging against the back wall. Pap hooked one end of that chain to the side of the shop. He hooked the other end to Sable.
    I couldn’t look at her. Sable wasn’t a dog you chained. Pap and Mam were treating her like Raye Cather treated her dogs. Sable pleaded with me to set her loose. I didn’t dare. When I left in the morning for school, she howled so pitiful, it made my teeth hurt.
    By the end of the week, though, Sable figured out how to get loose all by herself. Once she discovered the trick of freeing herself from the chain, she wasted no time in finding trouble again.
    The day Sable brought home a brand-new mat that people use to wipe their feet on, Mam blew.
    â€œGet rid of that dog,” she said.
    â€œNo!” I cried, wrapping my arms around Sable.
    â€œIt’s too much, Tate,” Pap said. He spoke so soft, I could hardly hear him. “We can’t keep her anymore.”
    â€œI’ll tie her up, Pap,” I said. “I’ll tie her up so good she’ll never get loose.”
    â€œYou know you won’t,” Pap said. “She needs someone with her all the time. She needs training. At the very least, she needs a good fence.”
    â€œ We could build a fence, Pap. Together.”
    Mam shook her head. “I’ve put up with her long enough, Tate. The dog’s nothing but trouble. She’s got to go.”

    â€œNo, Mam! Pap! Please!”
    Mam turned her tall back on me and picked up the phone, calling neighbors, trying to find out who the mat belonged to.
    I ran with Sable up to the secret place, without a coat even. Sable sat close beside me.
    â€œYou’ve gotten yourself into hot water with Mam before,” I told Sable. “It’ll be all right. I’m sure it will.” But my heart beat so hard, I could see it thumping through my overalls.
    â€œMaybe Mam will forget about that mat after a while, Sable.”
    Sable pushed her nose down my neck.
    â€œAnyway,” I said. “That’s what we’ll hope for.”

6 / A Trip
    Two weeks later, Pap had cabinets to deliver to a doctor in Concord, New Hampshire. He said I could skip school and come along.
    â€œBring the dog, too, Tate,” Pap said, loading cabinets into the truck.
    â€œSable’s coming?” I asked. Sable never rode in Pap’s truck.
    â€œYup,” Pap said.
    When I unchained her from the shop, Sable ran in giant figure eights, all around the yard. I had some work getting her into the cab. I had to grab her by her braided collar and sort of haul her on in. That square knot I had tied held tighter than a stuck lid.
    *   *   *
    It was April and large patches of snow still dotted our property, but the dirt roads were thawing and that meant mud.
    Sable panted in the sun-steeped truck. I opened my window a bit and she pushed her nose out, sniffing the spicy air. Sable sat beside me in the cab, her two front paws pressing into my legs. She sure wasn’t skinny anymore.
    â€œOuch, Sable,” I said, pushing her off of me.
    Sable brought her head back inside the truck. Her tongue wiped across my cheek, leaving a sloppy wet streak. She snuffled the inside of my ear.
    â€œGood dog,” I said, stroking the soft white blaze on her chest.
    *   *   *
    Pap installed the new cabinets for Doc Winston while Sable and I chased chipmunks and frogs on the