Читать книгу Shining Hours - Anonymous - Страница 8

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Fido was the proud mother of four puppies. They were born in a clothes basket. While they were very young they did not offer to leave their warm bed. They snuggled close to their mother, and when she went off for a walk they cuddled together.

They soon became venturesome, like most dogs and boys. Two were particularly so. They jumped over-board to go on a tour of inspection, the mother’s sharp eyes following.

The third, not quite so bold, just leaned over the edge of the basket. He leaned too far, and out he tumbled, and then tried to climb back. The fourth was too lazy to move, and kept under cover.

Dear, big, old Colonel eyed curiously these fat, faltering, four-legged new-comers. And the new-comers eyed him. They sat in judgment over his tail as it lay on the ground. They never thought of its being a tail. They only knew one kind, like theirs and their mother’s.

While they were thinking, the Colonel raised this bushy tail. It struck one under the jaw, making him turn a back somersault; it rolled the other puppy over. They were very much surprised, and waddled back to the basket as fast as their weak legs could carry them. The Colonel smiled.

These two dogs grew bolder as they grew older. Once, when their mother was away, they went on another inspecting tour, taking the most timid puppy with them.

They jumped up the front steps of their masters house. Seeing the front door open, they decided to call. They did not know that the proper way was to ring the bell and hand in cards. They simply walked in and found their way to the parlor. What fine curtains to roll on! What beautiful lace to tear! What gay cords and tassels to pull! Such a lark!

That which attracted them most was a mat made of a wolf’s skin and head. At first they were afraid, but seeing he did not injure them, they pulled him about at a great rate. They were having such a good time, they made some noise.

The maid surprised them, and stopped their little game by appearing with a whip. The puppies went out the front door faster than callers usually go; and they never so much as said good-afternoon.