Kathleen and I were catching up on our favorite "Mystery" detective one evening, Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot, in an episode in which Inspector Japp taps his nose, gives Poirot a look, and says, "Better to let sleeping dogs lie, eh, Poirot?" Poirot twitches one of his immaculately cared-for moustaches and delivers a wonderfully charming malapropism, "Non, non, non, mon ami, between reviewers, there should be no sleepy dogs!" Well, he didn't actually say "reviewers"...
The Sleepy Dogs I refer to are the gorgeous, $…