When I was 6 my parents decided my brother and I would be better raised in the wilds of Connecticut than in New York City. I remember my father holding me as I sobbed in his shoulder hating the mosquitoes and wanting to go back to my city. He had banked everything on a little 3 acres of swampy woods to give us a better life, andI, his loving daughter, was screaming to go back to the city. A year later, my German Shepherd and I were the subjects of many calls to the police as my mother panicked that her daughter was lost in the woods. But Pooh, my Alsatian and I were found, not lost.
Many years later the adventures have not ended, though the dogs as companions have sadly had to change. The woods make me who I am and when I lose myself, I know it is time to get back amongst the trees.