MONIQUE RIBAULT - TRAINER - DOG CAGES<br/><br/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/92/Madeleine_Boullier_Avatar_05.jpg)</div><strong>"What is this ridiculous noise? Was there a terrorist attack and I missed it? Hm? Who is making that din? Some bad puppy who does not want to sit down for a week. You!"</strong>I pointed my cane from the doorway at the new Red Setter.<strong>"You, my girl have one chance and one chance only. Be silent at once or I will take you out and put you over the horse and cane your rump and give you something to howl about. Now shut up!"</strong><br/><br/>I stood in the doorway, fists on my hips and glared at the dogs. We had a new batch in and they were often rowdy, bitching about this and that... "Wait until my daddy the CEO of Some Really Big Important Shitty Corp Inc hears of this." All that crap. It was pathetic. I had heard it all, time and time again. Unless you were exempt, or paid the protection money, or had the right connections, or lived on Mars, being caught by the squads was a fact of life. Once here, stay here. That was that. If they went outside and opened their whiney muzzles they'd be executed or processed and that would be the end of it. Here, they actually had some chance of living part of their lives normally - waitress, bar staff, masseur, maid, dancer. They'd learn soon enough.<br/><br/>I glared at the Setter just daring her to make one more complaint.