Thanksgiving Week. I took Frieda for a walk. We went up the hill. I took her off the leash. She looked at me, and then, for the first time, fell into a lope alongside of me. We walked a half a mile, until my feet throbbed in protest – it is a very steep hill. I saw some stone walls and took out the camera. Frieda sat down and stared at me. She waited until I was finished with my photos and then she fell into step alongside of me, and we walked down the hill together. “You are a great dog,” I whispered, and she wagged her tail, and scanned the woods for intruders.