Dakota Gold
By Karen Wilson
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About this ebook
In a poignant retelling of the unconditional love between a dog and his owner, Wilson details how Rusty, at five weeks old, warmed her heart and eased doubts and pain as he quickly acclimated to his new life in her home. He turned out to be a gentle-natured puppy known to elevate the spirits of all who met him. Wilson recalls Rustys comical adventures as he grew by leaps and bounds; made friends with her collie, Chester; had fun with a rope swing, a bucket, and leaf piles; caught snowballs in his mouth; and discovered that a cow can be a guardian angel.
Dakota Gold shares the true story of a tail-wagging, mischievous dog as he is adopted by his new family, embraces the fun in life, and learns from his best friend that love is the key to happiness.
Karen Wilson
Karen Wilson is Professor of Catalysis in the School of Science at RMIT University and was previously Chair of Catalysis and Research Director of the European Bioenergy Research Institute at Aston University (2013-17), where she also held a Royal Society Industry Fellowship in collaboration with Johnson Matthey. She holds a BA and PhD from the University of Cambridge, and MSc in heterogeneous catalysis from the University of Liverpool and has held academic positions at the University of York and Cardiff University. Her research interests lie in the design of tunable porous materials for sustainable biofuels and chemicals production from renewable resources. She is currently Associate Editor of the academic journals Sustainable Energy & Fuels, and Energy & Environmental Materials.
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Dakota Gold - Karen Wilson
Dakota Gold
24864.pngKaren Wilson
iUniverse LLC
Bloomington
Copyright © 2014 Karen Wilson.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
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ISBN: 978-1-4917-2928-1 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-4917-2926-7 (e)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014905297
iUniverse rev. date: 3/18/2014
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter One
W ith breakfast eaten and the dishes done, I bundled up for my morning walk with Rusty. It was still winter, but the sun poured its warmth across the frozen land, slowly melting the snow. Before long, it would become a very muddy walk! For now, though, Rusty and I broke a path through the deep snow to the stand of oak, aspen, poplar, pine, and cedar trees. Holly bushes were scattered here and about, the berries nestled on pillows of snow and the deep-green leaves beautifully etched in white. All the leafless branches on the trees had snow sleeves and stood in stark contrast to the clear blue sky. Covered in snow, the branches no longer reminded me of a bag of bones—funny how nature can change mental pictures from one to another. Along our walk, numerous tracks and pathways presented themselves. The black bear that roamed our area had been there sometime during the night and had left muddy rubbings and bits of fur and clawing marks on the bark of the bigger trees. I could still see rubs left on the trees by the buck deer from the earlier rutting season. Faint paw prints from the bobcat tracked across the snow, heading to a destination that it only knew.
Only the faint swishing of cascading snow from overloaded boughs and the crunch of snow underfoot broke the silence of this morning. I could see patches of sky visible beyond the towering trees—not a cloud in sight and not even a whisper of wind. Maybe this was really the end of the storm. If history was a good measure, we soon could expect weeks of fine spring-like temperatures, in spite of its being late winter.
As Rusty and I walked from the rolling pasture to our wooded pathway, I noticed that the air was warm enough that I could no longer see our breath—no mist burst from our mouths, making us look like laboring steamboats. The sunshine, the chirping birds, the clean smell of pine needles—they were all good signs.
Rusty soon found a distraction—a rabbit. His nose wriggled as he sniffed the air, stopping in his tracks. I knew he was remembering the baby bunny he had found when he was younger. Suddenly, with a spurt of energy, he bounded off, eagerly yet gracefully. With legs reaching out, he quickly covered ground in the melting snow. I saw that the rabbit was too wise to stay in place, for he scooted away. The white cottontail disappeared deeper into the woods, outside our fenced property line. Rusty never went beyond the fencing. He stopped at the line, looked to where the rabbit had disappeared, and then