I found the article “Not one dog is forgotten before God” interesting (We Are One, by Lasha Morningstar, WCR, Oct. 29).

I was raised on a farm and we owned a big white crossbreed dog.

There was no electricity or water pressure system on the property. There was just a slop pail under the kitchen sink.

In 1935 my parents sold the farm and purchased property in a small town. The day before leaving the farm my parents decided to visit some friends some distance away and, during those years, it was a common practice in the farm community to sleep over and return the next day.

I was 11 years of age at that time and they decided to leave me alone at home.

Being alone, I felt more secure by having the light on so I put the coal oil lamp on a chair beside my bed.

During the night I was awakened by loud howling by the dog, who was just outside of the window.

The mattress, floor and curtains were on fire.

I opened the door to get some fresh air, took the slop pail from the kitchen poured it on the fire then kept refilling it at the pump until I put the fire out.

The dog realized I was in trouble and decided to wake me up, otherwise I would not be writing about it now.