Sasha
Sasha's ears twitched as she heard the sound of hobnailed boots coming up the boardwalk. She knew that it was Ima Gaffe, finally coming home to the lodge on Spruce Island. No one else wore those boots. At least, no one who mattered. For fifty dog years Sasha had faithfully guarded her master's lodgings. She usually spent her days lying in the sun by the large south-facing window in the library. That window gave her a full view of the front lawn and its large boardwalk.
Most of the time, life was quiet. When Ima was away, only the occasional bear or fox wandering by would attract her attention. The servants were not of much interest to her other than for providing daily meals and a few choice snacks from leftovers every now and then. Sometimes the house would be full of noisy people and strange smells. Sasha knew when to stay out of the way while keeping an eye on Ima and watching for threats.
Being a full-blooded Russian wolfhound, staying out of the way was a tall order. But dealing with threats were times for excitement. Most people and objects either moved or were moved when a wolfhound charged. The confines of the house never allowed her to get up much speed. Outside, on the other hand, she could stretch out her stride. Her large, hare-like feet could run down and keep anything at bay through mud, snow, or on dry ground. Being extremely intelligent, she knew not to bother with the red foxes, though. Those agile little cousins could change direction too quickly for an animal of Sasha's bulk. Many a dog had broken a leg trying to follow at full speed a fox that had suddenly made a sharp turn.
Waiting next to the main door of the lodge, Sasha sat very still, her ears pricked in anticipation. Her long, sleek, wavy coat shone like polished silver as the afternoon sun streamed in through the Palladian window above the door. To the untrained eye, she looked like a statue of a large, hairy greyhound with very dark eyes, powerful jaws and a long, silky tail. Being almost the same weight as Ima and about thirty inches tall at her withers, Sasha made Ima look like a wrinkled, wizened child when they walked side by side. Her gentle demeanor masked a fierce and courageous heart. Her nose began to twitch as the door opened before her.
"Oh, dere's my good gel!" exclaimed Ima happily as she set down her bag and patted the dog's large, domed head. "Haf ya missed me?"
In answer, Sasha jumped up, set her front paws on Ima's shoulders and licked her cheek.
"Now, git down, ya big softy. Some'un would tink I nev'r teach'd ya manners!" Ima smiled, giving her a hug. "Where's ev'rone, anyways?"