Named for her first home, remote Lonesome Lake in British Columbia's Tweedsmuir Park, Lonesome was a first-rate companion: obedient, mannerly, brave, and occasionally cynical. She did not share her human's love of the wilderness, and wore a martyred expression for most of her life. She would have much preferred a life in the suburbs, "with nice safe walks in the park and a cozy bed inside the house." "Any dog worth her milk bones," Lonesome writes, "must accept her lot in life-fording rivers, swimming lakes, camping out in bitter weather and, worst of all, bears. Yes, bears. It's a wonder I am still around to tell this tale." Lonesome's memoirs paint a vivid picture of her life with Chris, but "I am not a vindictive creature and this book will remain family reading." She focuses on events not already recounted in Chris's books and, as she loftily points out in her introduction, on sharing her unique dog's perspective on their day-to-day life in the wilds.