Eight-year-old Tommy Sanders had recently noticed a strange white dog that had apparently taken up residence in the woods behind his house. Actually the animal reminded Tommy more of a bear than a dog. It was tall and husky, with long white hair. Tommy had once gotten close enough to notice that it's eyes and nose were not brown like that of a normal dog, but pink like that of a rabbit.

"The dog is an albino," his father told him. "When an animal or person has no skin or hair color, their eyes sometimes look pink."

Such an unusual animal, Tommy thought to himself. When he suggested that he and his father go into the woods and bring the dog back home, Tommy's father's smile turned to a frown. "No!" he said firmly. "We have no idea what that dog might do if we approach it. I'm going to call the dog catcher. He's equipped to take care of stray animals."

"But Dad...," Tommy protested.

Tommy's father shook his finger at his son. "And I want you to stay out of those woods until the dog catcher has done his job. I don't want you bitten by a mad dog."

Tommy was not so easily convinced the dog was mean. But he obeyed his father.

A couple hours later the dog catcher and his assistant appeared, a big cage on the bed of their pickup truck. They stopped at the house and Tommy's father showed them the patch of woods where he thought the dog lived. The men searched the woods for a long time, but found nothing. Finally they gave up the search and walked back to the house.

"If you see the dog," the dog catcher told Tommy's father, "try to capture it if you can. Then call us to come and get it."

Later that evening, the white dog appeared at the edge of the woods and stared at the house. Tommy and his father stood at the edge of the yard watching. Finally Tommy's father went to the house and returned clutching a double barrel shotgun in one hand and a stout rope in the other.

"You stay here," he told his son. "I'm going to get that dog."

"What's the shotgun for?" Tommy asked his father.

"Insurance," he replied hastily.

But Tommy's father was no more successful than the dog catcher and when he returned to the house a half hour later he had a glazed look on his face.

"That is the strangest dog I have ever seen in my life," he said. "When I tried to approach him, he turned and disappeared into the woods. He couldn't have been twenty feet in front of me when he did it."

"What happened?" Tommy asked.

"He just disappeared. I couldn't find him anywhere. A white dog like that should have been easy to spot in the dark woods. I just don't understand it."

The next evening the same thing happened. Tommy's father followed the white dog into the woods then came back a few minutes later empty-handed, a puzzled look on his face.

"There must be a cave or something that he hides in when I come after him," Tommy's father said. "But for the life of me, I can't find the opening."

"Maybe I could find him," Tommy suggested.

"No you don't," his father shot back. "You heard what I told you. Stay out of those woods until we capture that dog!"

In the next month Tommy, or his father, saw the big white dog a dozen times or more. Each time the animal sat at the edge of the woods watching the house. A couple of times Tommy's father ventured into the woods with this rope and gun, but each time the dog vanished among the trees. Then one day Tommy was preparing to fly a kite in the field beside his house, between the lawn and the woods, when he heard a low noise behind him. He turned and the big white dog stood growling and baring his teeth, only five feet behind him.

The dog stood as if it were ready to spring--its head was lowered and its long ears were laid back flat against it's head. The dog pink eyes looked even paler than Tommy had remembered them. Suddenly he realized why--they had no pupils!

Terror seized the little boy. His father had been right. This dog was not the kind of animal that one would want to bring home as a pet. The creature looked positively evil.

Someone had once told him that mean dogs react to fear in humans. They can actually smell it! So Tommy tried not to shake or to look afraid.

"Hello, boy," he whispered soothingly to the dog.

The dog emitted a low, throaty growl.

Then Tommy noticed for the first time that the dog was not looking at him. Rather he was staring at something on the ground. But before he could turn the dog lunged knocking, Tommy off his feet. When he regained his senses he saw the white dog had a five-foot rattlesnake in his mouth and was running across the field with it. Just then his father rushed over and helped his son to his feet.

"Daddy, that dog..."

"I know," the breathless father said. "I saw the whole thing. That snake was getting ready to strike you. The white dog just saved your life!"

Later Tommy's father and some of his friends searched the woods, trying to find the white dog. Surely the snake must have bitten him and he was dying--or already dead. But they found no body.

The next day the newspaper carried a story about the mysterious dog that saved a little boy from being bitten by a rattlesnake. The paper printed a detailed description of the animal. If anyone found the dog, the article announced, would they please call Tommy's father.

That afternoon the doorbell rang and Tommy answered it. A woman and her daughter, who was about Tommy's age, stood on the porch.

"You wanted to know about the white dog," the woman told Tommy's father as they sat on the porch. "My daughter Bessie had a big white dog that she called Edgar. He was a pure albino with eyes so light that you could hardly see them. I think it was Edgar who saved your son's life."

Tommy's father started to rise. "Then let's go into the woods. Maybe all of us can find him."

"That's not necessary," the woman replied. "I know exactly where Edgar is.

"We live across the hill, directly behind your woods," she continued. "One day Bessie was playing in her sandbox. Edgar was nearby. Suddenly a big rattler slithered up in the grass and was almost next to Bessie when Edgar spotted it. The dog grabbed the snake in his mouth and started to run off with it.

"There was a yelp and we knew Edgar had been bitten. But he ran into the woods anyway, the snake still in his mouth.

"My husband and I went into the woods a short time later looking for the dog, but he was dead. We buried him in the woods, right next to a big oak tree.

"So, you see, there would be no point in even looking for him. Edgar's been dead for six months."