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contention about the benefits of off-leash play. Chomsky remained happily on the fringes of the group, as Noah’s mixed breeds and the Labs tore around. With a guilt-ridden glance in my direction, Ceci removed Quest’s leash. The excitement of meeting Rowdy and riding in the car, however, seemed to have exhausted the old dog’s energy. He sank to the grass in a bearlike heap.
    ‘That hardly applies to Zsa Zsa,” one of the women pointed out. “I mean, Zsa Zsa isn’t exactly a walking ad for playing with other dogs, and Sylvia’s yard is next to the park. It’s five minutes from here. Zsa Zsa’s been coming here for ages, and you couldn’t exactly call her socialized. Really, she’s just getting worse and worse.”
    “I hate to say it,” another woman remarked, “but I’m afraid the truth is that Zsa Zsa just is not a very nice dog. Naturally, you can’t expect Sylvia to see it that way.”
    “Has anyone tried talking to Sylvia?” I asked.
    “Sylvia knows damn well that Zsa Zsa’s ruining the park for the rest of us,” Noah said. “Hey, who keeps the park safe? We do! Dog walkers. The rest of us knock ourselves out to fight the antidog sentiment. We go around with our pockets full of plastic bags. We clean up after our dogs. Our dogs don’t go around chasing the joggers and jumping on people and scaring little old ladies.” Suddenly aware of Ceci’s presence, Noah reddened and had the sense not to elaborate.
    “It’s true,” said the woman in purple. ‘Technically, there’s a leash law, but no one used to care all that much, except for a few cranks who complained if they stepped in dog doo, but really our dogs just play together.” She swept an arm toward the nearby pack. “They’re not bothering anyone.”
    “Does Sylvia—?” I started to ask.
    Noah interrupted me. “Sylvia knows. Her son complains to her all the time.”
    The woman in purple corrected him. “Son-in-law. He’s married to Sylvia’s daughter. I forget his name.”
    “Leo’s daddy,” someone said. Or that’s what it sounded like.
    Ceci spelled out the name. “L-l-i-o. Llio is a Pembroke Welsh corgi, just like the Queen’s dogs, although I must say that despite the Welsh and all that, tradition, respect for the breed’s origins, and so forth, it still strikes me as a foolish name for a girl, because after all, we’re not in Wales, are we?” She had a momentary look of genuine puzzlement. As if announcing a comforting discovery, she cried, Columbus-like, “We’re in America!” Ceci’s daffiness, I might mention, drove her sister wild. Or as wild as the logical Althea ever got. “It’s not mental deterioration,” Althea had informed me. “That sort of lunacy used to be fashionable in young women.”
    “Be that as it may,” Ceci continued, “Llio is perfectly charming, not to mention quite, quite beautiful, and her daddy is a model of responsible ownership. So we feel certain that he has talked sternly to Sylvia.”
    “I wonder,” I suggested, “whether all of you might try putting the problem to Sylvia directly. Sometimes people don’t pay all that much attention to members of their own families.”
    “You don’t know Sylvia!” one of the women exclaimed. The other people laughed.
    “That’s true,” I agreed.
    “Sylvia makes a joke out of everything,” Ceci explained, “including poor Wilson, her son-in-law, who is really a very nice young man.” She broke off. “Speaking of him, there he is now.”
    Rapidly approaching from the direction of the woods was a tall, dark-haired man carrying a retractable lead, at the end of which was a really beautiful Pembroke bitch, which is to say a show-quality Pembroke Welsh corgi female. Corgis are tough, sturdy herding dogs, with substantial bodies and short legs. Handy mnemonic: long tail, long sleeves, Cardigan. As in sweater. Cardigan Welsh corgis have long tails. The ones with the short tails are Pembrokes. Llio, whose name had come up earlier, stood