Chapter Eleven
The Licking of Izzie
“A dog’s bark does not always precede a bite.”—Beryl
Archie had been all for dumping Beryl and H2 at the nearest bus station until he heard the word “Legless.” He stared at a remorseful-looking Beryl and an agitated-looking H2; he was a lucky man.
Beryl sat in the car with an empty feeling, made worse by her now-dropping sugar level. Never had anyone played with her, let alone licked her face. The only touch she had experienced was a “rubbing” from the dry, cold hands of a half-asleep footman—nothing like the experience of warm dribbling, wet paws, and snuggling, as Archie called it.
She thought it meant something. Now Beryl was disorientated, confused, and desperate for a wet wipe.
When Izzie woke up and saw the nice lady, she jumped into Beryl’s
