Anne of Ingleside - L. M. Montgomery [64]
At first Jem never suspected this. Of course Bruno would be a bit homesick and lonesome to begin with, but that would soon wear off. Jem found it did not. Bruno was the most obedient little dog in the world; he did exactly what he was told, and even Susan admitted that a better behaved animal couldn’t be found. But there was no life in him. When Jem took him out Bruno’s eyes would gleam alertly at first, his tail would wag, and he would start off cockily. But after a little while the glow would leave his eyes and he would trot meekly beside Jem with drooping crest. Kindness was showered upon him by all, the juiciest and meatiest of bones were at his disposal, not the slightest objection was made to his sleeping at the foot of Jem’s bed every night. But Bruno remained remote… inaccessible… a stranger. Sometimes in the night Jem woke and reached down to pat the sturdy little body; but there was never any answering lick of tongue or thump of tail. Bruno permitted caresses but he would not respond to them.
Jem set his teeth. There was a good bit of determination in James Matthew Blythe and he was not going to be beaten by a dog… his dog, whom he had bought fairly and squarely with money hardly saved from his allowance. Bruno would just have to get over being homesick for Roddy… have to give up looking at you with the pathetic eyes of a lost creature… have to learn to love him.
Jem had to stand up for Bruno, for the other boys in school, suspecting how he loved the dog, were always trying to ‘pick on’ him.
‘Your dog has fleas… Great Big Fleas,’ taunted Perry Reese.
Jem had to trounce him before Perry would take it back and say Bruno hadn’t a single flea, not one.
‘My pup takes fits once a week,’ boasted Bob Russell. ‘I’ll bet your old pup never had a fit in his life. If I had a dog like that I’d run him through the meat-grinder.’
‘We had a dog like that once,’ said Mike Drew. ‘But we drowned him.’
‘My dog’s an awful dog,’ said Sam Warren proudly. ‘He kills the chickens and chews up all the clothes on washday. Bet your dog hasn’t spunk enough for that.’
Jem sorrowfully admitted to himself, if not to Sam, that Bruno hadn’t. He almost wished it had. And it stung him when Watty Flagg shouted: ‘Your dog’s a good dog… he never barks on Sunday,’ because Bruno didn’t bark any day.
But with it all he was such a dear, adorable little dog.
‘Bruno, why don’t you love me?’ almost sobbed Jem. ‘There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you… we could have such fun together.’ But he would not admit defeat to anyone.
Jem hurried home one evening from a mussel-bake at the Harbour Mouth because he knew a storm was coming. The sea moaned so. Things had a sinister, lonely look. There was a long rip and tear of thunder as Jem dashed into Ingleside.
‘Where’s Bruno?’ he shouted.
It was the first time he had gone anywhere without Bruno. He had thought the long walk to the Harbour Mouth would be too much for a little dog. Jem would not admit to himself that such a long walk with a dog whose heart was not in it would be a little too much for him as well.
It developed that nobody knew where Bruno was. He had not been seen since Jem left after supper. Jem hunted everywhere, but he was not to be found. The rain was coming down in floods, the world was drowned in lightning. Was Bruno out in that black night… lost? Bruno was afraid of thunderstorms. The only times he had ever seemed to come near Jem in spirit was when he crept close to him while the sky was riven asunder.
Jem worried so that when the storm was spent Gilbert said, ‘I ought to go up to the Head anyway to see how Roy Westcott is getting on. You can come, too, Jem, and we’ll drive round by the old Crawford