Beautiful Joe [17]
She
began to punish him just as soon as he began to tear and worry things. The first
thing he attacked was Mr. Morris' felt hat. The wind blew it down the hall one
day, and Billy came along and began to try it with his teeth. I dare say it felt
good to them, for a puppy is very like a baby and loves something to bite.
Miss Laura found him, and he rolled his eyes at her quite innocently, not
knowing that he was doing wrong. She took the hat away, and pointing from it to
him, said, "Bad Billy!" Then she gave him two or three slaps with a bootlace.
She never struck a little dog with her hand or a stick. She said clubs were for
big dogs and switches for little dogs, if one had to use them. The best way was
to scold them, for a good dog feels a severe scolding as much as a whipping.
Billy was very much ashamed of himself. Nothing would induce him even to look at
a hat again. But he thought it was no harm to worry other things. He attacked
one thing after another, the rugs on the floor, curtains, anything flying or
fluttering, and Miss Laura patiently scolded him for each one, till at last it
dawned upon him that he must not worry anything but a bone. Then he got to be a
very good dog.
There was one thing that Miss Laura was very particular about, and that was to
have him fed regularly. We both got three meals a day. We were never allowed to
go into the dining room, and while the family was at the table, we lay in the
hall outside and watched what was going on.
Dogs take a great interest in what any one gets to eat. It was quite exciting to
see the Morrises' passing each other different dishes, and to smell the nice,
hot food. Billy often wished that he could get up on the table. He said that he
would make things fly. When he was growing, he hardly ever got enough to eat. I
used to tell him that he would kill himself if he could eat all he wanted to.
As soon as meals were over, Billy and I scampered after Miss Laura to the
kitchen. We each had our own plate for food. Mary the cook often laughed at Miss
Laura, because she would not let her dogs "dish" together. Miss Laura said that
if she did, the larger one would get more than his share, and the little one
would starve.
It was quite a sight to see Billy eat. He spread his legs apart to steady
himself, and gobbled at his food like a duck. When he finished he always looked
up for more, and Miss Laura would shake her head and say: "No, Billy: better
longing than loathing. I believe that a great many little dogs are killed by
overfeeding."
I often heard the Morrises speak of the foolish way in which some people stuffed
their pets with food, and either kill them by it or keep them in continual ill
health. A case occurred in our neighborhood while Billy was a puppy. Some
people, called Dobson, who lived only a few doors from the Morrises, had a fine
bay mare and a little colt called Sam. They were very proud of this colt, and
Mr. Dobson had promised it to his son James. One day Mr. Dobson asked Mr. Morris
to come in and see the colt, and I went, too. I watched Mr. Morris while he
examined it. It was a pretty little creature, and I did not wonder that they
thought so much of it.
When Mr. Morris went home his wife asked him what he thought of it.
"I think," he said, "that it won't live long."
"Why, papa!" exclaimed Jack, who overheard the remark, "it is as fat as a seal."
"It would have a better chance for its life if it were lean and scrawny," said
Mr. Morris. "They are over-feeding it, and I told Mr. Dobson so; but he wasn't
inclined to believe me."
Now, Mr. Morris had been brought up in the country, and knew a great deal about
animals, so I was inclined to think he was right. And sure enough, in a few
days, we heard that the colt was dead.
Poor James Dobson felt very badly. A number of the neighbors' boys went into see
him, and there he stood gazing at the dead colt, and looking as if he wanted to
cry. Jack was there and I was at his heels, and though he said
began to punish him just as soon as he began to tear and worry things. The first
thing he attacked was Mr. Morris' felt hat. The wind blew it down the hall one
day, and Billy came along and began to try it with his teeth. I dare say it felt
good to them, for a puppy is very like a baby and loves something to bite.
Miss Laura found him, and he rolled his eyes at her quite innocently, not
knowing that he was doing wrong. She took the hat away, and pointing from it to
him, said, "Bad Billy!" Then she gave him two or three slaps with a bootlace.
She never struck a little dog with her hand or a stick. She said clubs were for
big dogs and switches for little dogs, if one had to use them. The best way was
to scold them, for a good dog feels a severe scolding as much as a whipping.
Billy was very much ashamed of himself. Nothing would induce him even to look at
a hat again. But he thought it was no harm to worry other things. He attacked
one thing after another, the rugs on the floor, curtains, anything flying or
fluttering, and Miss Laura patiently scolded him for each one, till at last it
dawned upon him that he must not worry anything but a bone. Then he got to be a
very good dog.
There was one thing that Miss Laura was very particular about, and that was to
have him fed regularly. We both got three meals a day. We were never allowed to
go into the dining room, and while the family was at the table, we lay in the
hall outside and watched what was going on.
Dogs take a great interest in what any one gets to eat. It was quite exciting to
see the Morrises' passing each other different dishes, and to smell the nice,
hot food. Billy often wished that he could get up on the table. He said that he
would make things fly. When he was growing, he hardly ever got enough to eat. I
used to tell him that he would kill himself if he could eat all he wanted to.
As soon as meals were over, Billy and I scampered after Miss Laura to the
kitchen. We each had our own plate for food. Mary the cook often laughed at Miss
Laura, because she would not let her dogs "dish" together. Miss Laura said that
if she did, the larger one would get more than his share, and the little one
would starve.
It was quite a sight to see Billy eat. He spread his legs apart to steady
himself, and gobbled at his food like a duck. When he finished he always looked
up for more, and Miss Laura would shake her head and say: "No, Billy: better
longing than loathing. I believe that a great many little dogs are killed by
overfeeding."
I often heard the Morrises speak of the foolish way in which some people stuffed
their pets with food, and either kill them by it or keep them in continual ill
health. A case occurred in our neighborhood while Billy was a puppy. Some
people, called Dobson, who lived only a few doors from the Morrises, had a fine
bay mare and a little colt called Sam. They were very proud of this colt, and
Mr. Dobson had promised it to his son James. One day Mr. Dobson asked Mr. Morris
to come in and see the colt, and I went, too. I watched Mr. Morris while he
examined it. It was a pretty little creature, and I did not wonder that they
thought so much of it.
When Mr. Morris went home his wife asked him what he thought of it.
"I think," he said, "that it won't live long."
"Why, papa!" exclaimed Jack, who overheard the remark, "it is as fat as a seal."
"It would have a better chance for its life if it were lean and scrawny," said
Mr. Morris. "They are over-feeding it, and I told Mr. Dobson so; but he wasn't
inclined to believe me."
Now, Mr. Morris had been brought up in the country, and knew a great deal about
animals, so I was inclined to think he was right. And sure enough, in a few
days, we heard that the colt was dead.
Poor James Dobson felt very badly. A number of the neighbors' boys went into see
him, and there he stood gazing at the dead colt, and looking as if he wanted to
cry. Jack was there and I was at his heels, and though he said