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If you want my opinion,” Arlene said, “the whole thing is too political. And it’s a straw man. I’ve seen the awful pictures, too, but those labs aren’t in Massachusetts. They’re in New Jersey. California. ” �This is Cambridge,” Diane said. ” �Exactly,” Arlene said. “It’s all just politics, and it’s only mice and rats, anyway. ” �That’s not what I meant,” Diane objected. Curly was still perched on her lap, turning his head back and forth, eyes bright. “What I meant is, sure, everything in Cambridge is politics.

Hah! ” Buck, in contrast, doesn’t doubt the existence of a true allergic response to dogs any more than he doubts the existence of evil itself. To Buck, dog allergies are simply the rhinolaryngeal stigmata branded on by the devil to mark his own. Sissy obviously didn’t share his view. �Well, good luck on Sunday,” I said. Just as I was about to open the gate, Max must have smelled or spotted a bird. If you’ve even once seen a beautiful dog on point, you know what Max did. Pointing is sudden and dramatic.

This one started with a dog fight that broke out on Walden Street in front of Quigley Drugs, only a few blocks from my house, which is the red one at the corner of Appleton and Concord. I’d walked rowdy past Quigley Drugs before, and the place had always worried me. It looked like a regular house, but you could tell it was a drugstore because over the front door hung a tilted sign positioned to crash on any customer who opened or closed the door. Since the sign had hung like that for years, I’d always assumed that no one had ever gone in or out.