When I was a little girl, my step-father and my mother got me a dog. I named her Sheba. She was supposed to be a boxer. She looked and acted like a boxer, but my step-father who belittled everything, said she wasn't. He said she was part hound.
All I knew was that she loved me. I don't remember now all that we did with her. My half-sister played with her too. We dressed Sheba in our clothes. We pretended she was a horse, and led her over jumps we made of sticks and packing… Continue