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the case of the kennel club banquet, the fish that I didn’t finish. So Betty has more experience in rescue work and greater force of character than I do, and I needed help. I reached her at her kennel number and explained about Puppy Luv.
    “That place!” Betty swore under her breath. “I’d like to strangle them.”
    “Failing that,” I said, “is there anything we can do?”
    Betty ignored the question. “That damned Puppy Luv. We’ve already got one of their dogs on our hands now.” Coincidence? Let me repeat: Ethical breeders take back their dogs. The ones that end up with rescue are mainly strays and pet shop dogs. Betty continued. “As a matter of fact, I was going to call you today to see if you’d go and take a look.” Betty gave the kind of sigh you hear from someone about to tell a familiar story. “This is some lady in Cambridge. Her husband died—it was his dog—and she says she’s thinking about moving and doesn’t have room and it’s not fair to the dog and all that. Basically, she just doesn’t want the dog. You live closer to her than I do. You think you could go take a look?”
    “Sure,” I said. “Where does she live?”
    Betty gave me the woman’s name, address, and phone number, and then a brief description of the malamute, a young unspayed female. The woman was named Enid Sievers, and she lived somewhere off Mass. Ave. in North Cambridge. The malamute was called Missy.
    “There’s no big rush,” Betty said. “The lady’s not threatening to take her to the vet or anything, and I really think she’s trying to be responsible.”
    “I could go take a look today,” I said. “I’ll call. But I’d rather not have her here over the weekend unless it’s an emergency. I’m really not set up for it, and I’ve got Rowdy entered on Sunday. I’ll be gone all day, and my neighbors aren’t going to love it if she and Kimi start anything.”
    If you don’t show your dogs, you may not realize that shows, obedience trials, tracking tests, and other such events require advance entry and that the entry fees are usually not refundable. You’re sometimes allowed to withdraw a bitch from a trial and get back your entry fee if you submit a veterinarian’s certificate to prove that she came in season, but if you get the flu or just decide that the dog isn’t ready, you lose your entry fee. But that’s beside the point. I wanted to go, and I intended tospend tomorrow, Saturday, grooming Rowdy and doing a run-through as well as doing my own grocery shopping and errands. An unknown rescue dog wouldn’t be much help. Want a few more excuses? On Sunday, when Rowdy and I went to the show, I wouldn’t be able to leave Kimi and the rescue dog loose together in the house because Kimi harbors unsisterly feelings toward other malamute bitches; and if I crated both of them, their complaints would irk my neighbors, especially the male Scottie who belongs to Rita, my second-floor tenant and first-class friend. Also, Kimi, an indoor dog, lacked the superthick winter protection that malamutes develop only if they live outdoors. The rescue dog was probably an indoor dog, too. If the frigid weather continued through Sunday, it would be cruel to leave either of them outside. In brief, it wouldn’t be convenient for me to take the dog until Monday.
    “No problem,” Betty assured me. “Like I said, there’s no rush, and you don’t need to keep her there. If it’s a problem, I’ll take her.”
    Although I honestly am not set up for a third dog, I felt guilty. “I’ll drive her out to you,” I volunteered. “I could probably do it Monday.”
    “Whenever,” Betty said. “So did you get a look at the papers on this pet shop dog?”
    If you’re a breed loyalist, maybe you’ll understand. If not, I’d better explain. Yes, but how? Look, suppose you’re strolling through your local mall and happen to notice a baby shop that’s selling an infant, and not just any old infant, either, but one