He had a doting love for Pomeranians—he kept dozens of them and served them only Vichy springwater to drink. Bennett believed his yappy little pooches were such astute judges of human character that he would sometimes hire editors, or choose not to, purely on the basis of his dogs’ reactions when the prospective employee walked into the room. (Some job candidates, having learned of Bennett’s odd deference to his dogs, would arrive at interviews with their coat pockets stuffed with morsels of raw meat.)
