The pet I’ll never forget: Reina the dog was dumped on a

She looked as if she had survived a famine. I could count every one of her ribs. But on my ranch, she thrived, and never left my side

I had not intended to get another dog. I already had three collies: Raleigh, Randolph and Byron. Ridiculous names for dogs of Scottish heritage. For generations, our family had embraced only this one breed. I have a picture of my grandmother, taken in 1930, with a collie in the front seat of her Studebaker roadster.

But in the 80s I lived on a ranch outside Tucson, Arizona, and had plenty of room for more dogs. When my dearest friend, Artie, asked me to foster a stray she had picked up on the Nogales highway, I didn’t see why I shouldn’t.