I love the mystery of dogs and human beings, and their relationship to one another. We think we know what they are thinking and meaning, whether they have souls, and where they are going. I don’t know. I see the magic that passes between some dogs and people, the emotion, and I often shake my head at the mystery, and our ignorance of the ties that bond these creatures to human beings more loyally and loving than we often bond to one another. In the drama of Frieda’s story, as much as any other dog I live with, I see this mystery, this need, this generosity of spirit and great loyalty. How much I see. How little I know.