Codger hates to admit that he was shocked — shocked! — to read last month that the Island shelters scores of unlicensed bed-and-breakfasts, but he has been stewing about it ever since.
Now, when he patrols the Rock with his canine escort, they are alert to the clues of underground rooming houses — flocks of cars in a driveway, moony couples eating banana cake on a porch, drifty shoulder-to-shoulder bicyclists, the clink of ice in newly installed wet bars. The dog takes notes. (more…)