Special to The Oregonian By Elisabeth Dunham Joslin Larson tells the story quickly, as if rushing through it might keep her from running into the pain associated with the memory. "When I was 12, my sheltie and I were on a walk," she begins. "She had this ... webbing leash that had frayed. She had chewed on it once or twice and I had tied it into a couple of knots. We were standing on the curb waiting to cross the street and she bolted. I don't know if she saw a squirrel or what." |
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