Four years later, the life of Sarah has changed dramatically.

But whether she’s a husky, or a wolf, or a cross, remains up in the air.

The wild canine was spotted by Steve Budreau in 2006 when he was working for Timberline Lodge on the flanks of Mount Hood.

“It was winter and I was working the night shift (11 p.m. to 5 a.m.), and I was the only one there (during those hours),”

Budreau recalled, sitting in the living room of his Mountain home off Hwy. 26.
“One night I saw these eyes glaring at me. I didn’t think much about it at the
time. I just figured it was someone out walking their dog.”

What he didn’t know was this was just the first chapter in a man-animal
adventure of Jack London proportions.

“She came back the next night, and the next, and I started asking around,”
he said.

He found out from climbers that they had seen her as well, at different
heights on the mountain.

“It’s hard to say how many times she had been to the summit,” he said.
Sarah didn’t show up for a few nights and Steve pretty much forgot about her
– that is until one night when he was sitting in a company pickup to keep
warm, and he spotted her again.

“She was on top of a snow bank, looking right at me,” he said.

Steve started feeding her, and after a while she’d be waiting for him when he
showed up for work. Still, she was skittish and wouldn’t let him near her. But
she wolfed down the food.

Workers at the lodge dining room joined in the feeding process, and Sarah,
wild but not a fool, started following people around the lodge area.

Some customers were alarmed and lodge personnel felt something had to be
done. According to Steve, the word was Sarah was “stalking guests.”

Sarah was given a death sentence. She had to be destroyed.

Steve called PETA. “I wanted to save her.”

PETA got its network going and phone calls to Timberline urged lodge
personnel to back off.

Working with personnel from the Portland Zoo, Steve managed to shoot Sarah
with a tranquilizer gun, in hope of taking her home. Sarah shrugged off the
dart, fled the scene and didn’t show up for several days. Zoo workers said she
was probably dead.

But three days later, she was back.

The feeding and rendezvous continued until summer when, once again, Sarah
returned to the wilderness. Still, Steve showed up every day looking for her –
even though his winter job had dried up and he no longer worked at
Timberline.

Two months later, Steve heard she was spotted at the Zigzag Ranger Station,
miles downhill from Timberline. The feeding visits continued at the ranger
station and Sarah began following Steve down the road toward his home – but
never ventured past the Hoodland Shopping Center.

“She surprised me when I saw her at Thriftway (in the shopping center),” he
said. “But she didn’t follow me past there.”

He went home, spread out on the couch, and an hour or so later he heard a
whining outside his house.

There was Sarah, and she’s been there ever since, living with Steve, his friend
Lauren Throssell, and their other dogs.

“Sarah’s still wary of human beings,” he said. “She lets me pet her now, but
usually only when I crouch down to her level. When I stand up she’ll take off.”
Steve is convinced she’s a wolf.

“PETA says she’s a wolf, and I swear she is as well,” he said. “A husky will
stand with paws pointed straight ahead. A wolf will splay her front legs, ready
to go whichever direction in a hurry. Sarah’s front legs are always angled
out.”

But it seems to matter very little to Sarah. She’s happy as a (name your
breed), pads around her one-acre domain like the permanent resident that
she is, and is especially fond of the food dish which Steve keeps forever filled.
Their unusual bond is unbreakable. Sarah’s lucky. Steve’s a prince.