Lulu, filled with impatience, was standing on Mister and Missus’s porch—and she was late. Fleischman was waiting patiently under a tree. He was holding on to Pookie, who immediately fell asleep, and gently patting Brutus, who promptly pooped. Mister and Missus weren’t upset about Lulu’s being late, because they were busy looking for Cordelia. Who, even with Lulu’s help, could not be found. Fleischman watched Mister and Missus and Lulu calling “Cordelia, Cordelia,” as they poked and prodded the junk pile on the porch. And then, because it was getting too late and even though Lulu scowled a stay-out-of-this scowl, he joined them. Handing the two dogs to Lulu, Fleischman knelt by the pile of junk and started speaking softly in a language that nobody else on that front porch knew. Well, nobody but Cordelia, because as soon as he started talking, she came popping out of the pile and, yapping blissfully, went waddling over to Fleischman.

“It’s Cordelia!” shouted Mister.

“It’s Cordelia!” shouted Missus.

“It’s time,” Lulu announced, “for me to go.” Quickly taking over, she attached Cordelia’s leash to Cordelia’s collar, and holding on to all three dogs—Pookie against her chest, the others on leashes—she turned to Fleischman, nodded, and said, “I’m leaving.”

(That nod was maybe Lulu saying thank you. Or maybe not.)

Fleischman, though not invited, was leaving with Lulu. But Mister and Missus first had two questions to ask. What kind of language did Fleischman speak to Cordelia? And what exactly did he say to her?

“I spoke in German,” Fleischman explained, “because Cordelia’s a dachshund, and dachshunds are German. I also know how to talk to French poodles in French.” Then he told Mister and Missus what he said to Cordelia to make her come out of hiding, but I really don’t feel like discussing that right now.