On the 25th anniversary of its first publication, here is the definitive edition of the book Archbishop Desmond Tutu called "a hauntingly beautiful story about love, family, and relationships," now with a new preface from the author.Sam Peek's beloved wife of fifty-seven years, Cora, has died. His children are anxious. No one knows how Sam will survive. How can this elderly man live alone? How can he run a farm? How can he keep driving his dilapidated truck down to the fields where he cares for a few rows of pecan trees? When Sam begins telling his children about a dog that is white as a fresh-fallen snow but who is invisible to everyone else, well, his children are sure that grief and old age have finally overcome their father.But whether the dog is real or not, Sam Peek, "one of the smartest men in the South when it comes to trees," outsmarts everyone. Sam and the White Dog dance from the pages of this bittersweet novel and straight into the reader's heart as the two share the mystery of life and begin together a warm and moving final rite of passage as life draws to a close.
In this "hauntingly beautiful story about love, family, and relationships," a mysterious dog helps an elderly man in his final days (Archbishop Desmond Tutu).
After Sam Peek's beloved wife Cora dies, his children are worried about him. After fifty-seven years of marriage, they are unsure how their elderly father will survive on his own. They talk about him as if he can't hear them, questioning how he'll run a farm, drive his truck, or live by himself.
When Sam tells his children about a white dog who visits him, yet seems invisible to everyone else, they are sure that grief and old age have taken a toll on their father. But, real or not, the creature soothes Sam's grief and ultimately reconciles him with his own mortality.
In this bittersweet story of love, grief, and coming to terms with death, "master storyteller" Terry Kay takes readers on Sam's journey with his white dog, bringing solace and comfort to the inevitable transition that all must make (The Atlanta Journal-Constitution).
