The Visitor Arrives
Dressed all in black? That was Foster, Albie Rose’s bodyguard, tough guy, muscle dude. He walked up to our door, passing out of where I could see from the window. I barked. That got Iggy going next door. Yip-yip-yip. Iggy was my pal, but I didn’t have time for him at the moment. I barked louder. So did Iggy. Meanwhile Foster knocked on the door, but it was hard to hear on account of all the barking going on. I barked louder still, trying to get Iggy to knock it off. Iggy barked louder still, too, that high-pitched yip-yip-yip hitting new heights. Did Foster knock again? I wasn’t sure. Iggy! Knock it off! But he wouldn’t. Old man Heydrich, our neighbor on the other side, started yelling. He was no favorite of mine so I gave him a quick series of angry barks to let him know. Iggy picked up on that, too. And so did other members of the nation within the nation, some nearby, some farther away.
“Chet!” Bernie called from the kitchen. “What the hell is going on?”
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