Chapter Fourteen
My Place In The Sun
After my catastrophic “walk in the forest,” Countess Vronsky treated me like a dog she’d saved from certain death at the animal shelter. She related to me affectionately as her pet, her possession, but not as a human being. I was definitely not a lap dog but more the goofy mutt she’d subject to quirky challenges to see how I’d react.
Or if I’d survive.
Then she’d laugh at me—more harshly than she’d ridicule a crazy pooch, because she cared less for me than for a dog. Like the savior at the shelter, Countess Vronsky knew I’d be dead if not for her, so why should she care how she treated me?
That summer Countess Vronsky meted out an assignment designed to crush my will, kill me, or certify that I was the most loyal dog in the world: supervising unski
