The tramp was sitting with his back to a hedge by the wayside, munching at some scraps wrapped in a newspaper. A lady, out walking with her pet Pomeranian, strolled past. The little dog ran to the tramp, and tried to muzzle the food. The tramp smiled expansively on the lady.
“Shall I throw the leetle dog a bit, mum?” he asked.
The lady was gratified by this appearance of kindly interest in her pet, and murmured an assent. The tramp caught the dog by the nape of the neck and tossed it over the hedge, remarking:
“And if he comes back, mum, I might throw him a bit more.”
* * *
Many a great man has been given credit as originator of this cynical sentiment:
“The more I see of men, the more I respect dogs.”
* * *
The fox terrier regarded with curious interest the knot tied in the tail of the dachshund.
“What’s the big idea?” he inquired.
“That,” the dachshund answered, “is a knot my wife tied to make me remember an errand.”
The fox terrier wagged his stump of tail thoughtfully.
“That,” he remarked at last, “must be the reason I’m so forgetful.”
* * *
During the siege of Paris in the Franco-German war, when everybody was starving, one aristocratic family had their pet dog served for dinner. The master of the house, when the meal was ended, surveyed the platter through tear-dimmed eyes, and spoke sadly:
“How Fido would have enjoyed these bones!”
* * *
The young clergyman during a parochial call noticed that the little daughter of the hostess was busy with her slate while eying him closely from time to time.
“And what are you doing, Clara?” he asked, with his most engaging smile.
“I’m drawing a picture of you,” was the answer.
The clerical visitor sat very still to facilitate the work of the artist. But, presently, Clara shook her head in discouragement.
“I don’t like it much,” she confessed. “I guess I’ll put a tail on it, and call it a dog.”
* * *
The meditative Hollander delivered a monologue to his dog:
“You vas only a dog, but I vish I vas you. Ven you go your bed in, you shust turn round dree times and lie down; ven I go de bed in, I haf to lock up the blace, and vind up de clock, and put out de cat, and undress myself, and my vife vakes up and scolds, and den de baby vakes and cries and I haf to valk him de house around, and den maybe I get myself to bed in time to get up again.
“Ven you get up you shust stretch yourself, dig your neck a little, and you vas up. I haf to light de fire, put on de kiddle, scrap some vit my vife, and get myself breakfast. You be lays round all day and haf blenty of fun. I haf to vork all day and have blenty of drubble. Ven you die, you vas dead; ven I die, I haf to go somewhere again.”
* * *
Some persons are born to have honor thrust upon them, and such is obviously the case of the actor named in this story.
The colored maid of an actress took out for exercise her mistress’s dog, a splendid St. Bernard. A passer-by admired the animal, and inquired as to the breed. The maid said:
“I doan jes’ zactly know mahself, but I dun hear my missis say he am a full-blood Sam Bernard.”