The next morning we complained to our landlady of her carelessness in
leaving wild beasts about the place, and we gave her a brief if not
exactly truthful, history of the business.
Instead of the tender womanly sympathy we had expected, the old lady
sat down in the easy chair and burst out laughing.
"What! old Boozer," she exclaimed, "you was afraid of old Boozer!
Why, bless you, he wouldn't hurt a worm! He ain't got a tooth in his
head, he ain't; we has to feed him with a spoon; and I'm sure the way
the cat chivies him about must be enough to make his life a burden to
him. I expect he wanted you to nurse him; he's used to being nursed."
And that was the brute that had kept us sitting on a table, with our
boots off, for over an hour on a chilly night!
Another bull-dog exhibition that occurs to me was one given by my
uncle. He had had a bulldog--a young one--given to him by a friend.
It was a grand dog, so his friend had told him; all it wanted was
training--it had not been properly trained. My uncle did not profess
to know much about the training of bull-dogs; but it seemed a simple
enough matter, so he thanked the man, and took his prize home at the
end of a rope.
"Have we got to live in the house with _this?_" asked my aunt,
indignantly, coming in to the room about an hour after the dog's
advent, followed by the quadruped himself, wearing an idiotically
self-satisfied air.
Pages:
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24