The story seems, in the end, a cross-stitch of impressions, a tale uncertain of its message and a book not quite up to the impressive standard of A Perfect Pledge.In some ways, I suppose cross-stitch might be impressionistic. It's a bunch of tiny little blobs of color that make a picture, but in this case, I think they mean just the opposite: there is no clear picture.
Today I brought Stella to the day care. When she sees other dogs on leashes, she barks at them until she can sniff them and do some playful hopping around. Then she is happy to get back in line. Unfortunately, it was very busy at the center today, and she had a lot of dogs to greet. Most people were nice as I explained her behavior. But there was this one older couple (late 60s/early 70s) who did not want their dog mixing with my ("ill-behaved") Shar Boco. When I went back out to the car, I noticed the car parked next to mine was a Rolls. So there you go. The Rolls Royce Airedale cannot play with the mutts. (I wonder if the dog was going into the hotel--I imagine they're getting her the upgraded room with the flat screen tv and private play sessions.)
Fortunately, dogs base their hierarchies on totally different criteria.