The Writer, Wolves and the Woodsman

  When the Doberman breeder reached out to me about a red and rust female, I couldn't resist. Meet Ruby. So, after a horrendous "marriage" and equally as troubling divorce, I had to leave a lot of things behind. This included two dogs. I didn't even get what I legally asked for (and it wasn't much). Try going halfsies with a narcissist. It won't work.  I fled with the Belgian Malinois, aka Sabot (pronounced Say- Bow), but left my precious Doberman puppy, Raguel and the aging German Shepherd.  It cracked my heart. The last night I spent in my "cage" I slept on the floor of my office with Sabot and Raguel. The next day, while Giant Violent Toddler was on yet another one of those "hikes" all three dogs were with me. I packed. I think they all knew something was about to go down... but instinct told me to take Sabot. He was the dog being abused most, after all. I calculated, and figured that the other two were big enough to protect themselves.