The next day you have no voices because you have all caught colds, and all day you argue with each other in angry whispers…
Montmorency was very pleased about this. He does not like peace and quiet. He prefers noise. But he looks so good, so well-behaved. When old ladies and gentlemen look at him, tears come into their eyes.
When he first came to live with me, I thought, "This dog will not be with me long. He is too good for this world." But, by the end of the year, he had killed twelve chickens, which I had to pay for…I had pulled him out of a hundred and fourteen street fights…A woman had brought me a dead cat and had called me a murderer. Then I changed my ideas about Montmorency.