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February 10, 2008
The vicious attack dog, doing double duty as a “draft dodger” by the front door, can’t be bothered to do so much as raise his enormous fuzzy German Shepherd head or lift a floppy ear when the delivery guys bring the grocery bags to the service entrance, two rooms away. No, he just lounges cross-pawed on his side, never even once considering that all the noise may be the result of someone entering the apartment to kill the people who feed him.

“Voof,” he says, more an expelling of breath than an actual bark, as a concession to his profession.