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It took some begging. The ball of wiggling, blond fur delighted my daughter and melted my reserve. There was just something special about this Labrador puppy - I felt it in my bones. I did not know then that this adorable beast would save two little girls from a horrible fate. What I did know was that the little stray was fat, happy . . . and destined for the Pound.

The puppy was very likely some child's Christmas present gone missing. Somehow, she had ended up on my neighbor's porch, probably smelling and hearing the three big dog's in the back yard. Here it was, New Year's Day, and my poor neighbor had walked miles, day after day, looking for the owner. She simply could not take in another pet and was near tears.

My husband was a "cat person" and had never owned a dog. He was unimpressed with the puppy's plight or my hopeful face.

"It's up to you," I whispered to my 6-year-old, a much-cherished only child. "Pour on the charm and work your magic, little girl!" She nodded, knowing exactly what to do. She made a crayon "check list" of puppy chores and explained her important new responsibilities to daddy. He frowned. She announced she be the official "pooper scooper" of the family. Daddy involuntarily smiled. She would brush, walk, feed and water the puppy. Daddy kept listening. So she wound up for the clincher: "Daddy, I'll never be lonely again - not with Sandradorable, the Labradorable!"

Remember, my daughter was an only child and had begged for a brother or sister who, simply, would never be born. My husband's unilateral decision to have a vasectomy must have flooded him with guilt. He denied her siblings, but could he actually deny this precocious child a furry companion who was named, diabolically, "Sandradorable the Labradorable?"

My daughter's "super powers" turned daddy to mush. There was no way that "Sandradorable, the Labradorable," was going any where but into our home.

That April, "Sandy" had blossomed into a six-month-old, 70 pounder. She was a huge beast with a devotion to my daughter that surpassed description. We didn't understand the depth of Sandy's love or the extreme danger hiding in our back yard until my daughter invited a friend over to play. The Spring weather was finally nice enough for a romp in the back yard. As the girls headed toward the swing set, Sandy went nuts. Stark, raving, nuts! I peeked out the window to see witness the commotion. I watched as Sandy put herself between the girls and the teeter-totter. She would not let them

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