“You have not a sou to your name, and you hardly speak a word of French, nor do you seem to understand it! You must have been living on an island for your entire life! However. . . You are good with your hands and seem to know how to fix just about everything. As long as things break, and you can fix them, you can stay free of charge. If you stop fixing, then you’re out, and your little dog too!” -Henrietta Guenier

Garelli DeMarciano swiftly stepped through his apartment door hanging up his hat and coat, leaving his toolbox by the door. Giving a stretch to the ceiling, he greeted his four legged companion who whimpered then barked to see her human companion return home.

“Ciao Memere! How was your day friend?”

Running up she pawed at his pants until he picked her up to look her in the eye as she licked his face.

“It’s okay it’s almost dinner, we go down to the market in short order!” He put Memere down, then started to speak as if answering her questions.

“It was Signore Hurteau’s apartment today, the door to his lock was broke. Perhaps years of wear, no?” Garelli walked towards his nightstand to look into the mirror. Combing his hair and smoothing the wrinkles from his tie he continued. “Signore Hurteau, you may be delighted to hear plays the harmonica! Perhaps it will pair well with the violin one evening?” Memere gave an enthusiastic bark in response.

“No, I’m sorry not other friends, however he had a green feathered friend named Roscoe. I’m jealous, he speaks better French than me!'“

Memere whimpered covering her eyes and snout giving a sad whimper.

“You know, the man likes lots of pictures. I think he might be a photographer; he has more photographs than I’ve ever seen. Perhaps he’s hiding lots of holes in the wall. It’ll keep me busy to pay the rent at anyway.”

Memere walked up to the door and started to scratch at it with her paws.

“Yes, yes, Memere. My stomach is growling too! Off to the market with us, just be sure to be on your best behavior this time. We’re running out of stalls to visit!”