I just finished the first draft of my book “Frieda and Me: Second Chances,” due out from Random House in 2013 (next year is my short-story collection focusing on women and dogs, “Dancing Dogs,” due out in October). I was recalling in one chapter the point at which I nearly gave up on her, and took her to the Adirondacks to try and figure out her past.

That night, I had a dream. I was walking in the Adirondacks, deeper and deeper into the cold and dark woods, and when I finally came to a clearing, Frieda was sitting in the moonlight, waiting for me, looking into my eyes.

There  I nearly broke down in frustration and approached her and asked her, “what do you want from me? What will it take to reach you?”

And, in the dream, she met my gaze and said nothing but I heard her message so clearly it could have been spoken by a human. She said simply, “trust me,” and that was all. That was Frieda’s message.