“Any chance we could give you back your dog?” I ask.
He laughs. “You don’t like Bailey?”
“Actually, we love her. She’s a gentle giant, and sweet as hell. We just can’t afford to feed her.”
“Can we come by tomorrow and get her? I’m also dying to see Tara. She saved my life; I want to thank her.”
“Words won’t do the trick,” I say. “Better bring some biscuits.”
David Rosenfelt
***
