Beautiful Joe [2]
thing I remember was being always hungry. I
had a number of brothers and sisters six in all and my mother never had enough
milk for us. She was always half starved herself, so she could not feed us
properly.
I am very unwilling to say much about my early life. I have lived so long in a
family where there is never a harsh word spoken, and where no one thinks of ill-
treating anybody or anything; that it seems almost wrong even to think or speak
of such a matter as hurting a poor dumb beast.
The man that owned my mother was a milkman. He kept one horse and three cows,
and he had a shaky old cart that he used to put his milk cans in. I don't think
there can be a worse man in the world than that milkman. It makes me shudder now
to think of him. His name was Jenkins, and I am glad to think that he is getting
punished now for his cruelty to poor dumb animals and to human beings. If you
think it is wrong that I am glad, you must remember that I am only a dog.
The first notice that he took of me when I was a little puppy, just able to
stagger about, was to give me a kick that sent me into a corner of the stable.
He used to beat and starve my mother. I have seen him use his heavy whip to
punish her till her body was covered with blood. When I got older I asked her
why she did not run away. She said she did not wish to; but I soon found out
that the reason she did not run away, was because she loved Jenkins. Cruel and
savage as he was, she yet loved him, and I believe she would have laid down her
life for him.
Now that I am old, I know that there are more men in the world like Jenkins.
They are not crazy, they are not drunkards; they simply seem to be possessed
with a spirit of wickedness. There are well-to-do people, yes, and rich people,
who will treat animals, and even little children, with such terrible cruelty,
that one cannot even mention the things that they are guilty of.
One reason for Jenkins' cruelty was his idleness. After he went his rounds in
the morning with his milk cans, he had nothing to do till late in the afternoon
but take care of his stable and yard. If he had kept them neat, and groomed his
horse, and cleaned the cows, and dug up the garden, it would have taken up all
his time; but he never tidied the place at all, till his yard and stable got so
littered up with things he threw down that he could not make his way about.
His house and stable stood in the middle of a large field, and they were at some
distance from the road. Passers-by could not see how untidy the place was.
Occasionally, a man came to look at the premises, and see that they were in good
order, but Jenkins always knew when to expect him, and had things cleaned up a
little.
I used to wish that some of the people that took milk from him would come and
look at his cows. In the spring and summer he drove them out to pasture, but
during the winter they stood all the time in the dirty, dark stable, where the
chinks in the wall were so big that the snow swept through almost in drifts. The
ground was always muddy and wet; there was only one small window on the north
side, where the sun only shone in for a short time in the afternoon.
They were very unhappy cows, but they stood patiently and never complained,
though sometimes I know they must have nearly frozen in the bitter winds that
blew through the stable on winter nights. They were lean and poor, and were
never in good health. Besides being cold they were fed on very poor food.
Jenkins used to come home nearly every afternoon with a great tub in the back of
his cart that was full of what he called "peelings." It was kitchen stuff that
he asked the cooks at the different houses where he delivered milk, to save for
him. They threw rotten vegetables, fruit parings, and scraps from the table into
a tub, and gave them to him at the end of a few days. A sour, nasty mess it
always was, and not fit to give any creature.
Sometimes, when he had not many "peelings," he would go to town and get
had a number of brothers and sisters six in all and my mother never had enough
milk for us. She was always half starved herself, so she could not feed us
properly.
I am very unwilling to say much about my early life. I have lived so long in a
family where there is never a harsh word spoken, and where no one thinks of ill-
treating anybody or anything; that it seems almost wrong even to think or speak
of such a matter as hurting a poor dumb beast.
The man that owned my mother was a milkman. He kept one horse and three cows,
and he had a shaky old cart that he used to put his milk cans in. I don't think
there can be a worse man in the world than that milkman. It makes me shudder now
to think of him. His name was Jenkins, and I am glad to think that he is getting
punished now for his cruelty to poor dumb animals and to human beings. If you
think it is wrong that I am glad, you must remember that I am only a dog.
The first notice that he took of me when I was a little puppy, just able to
stagger about, was to give me a kick that sent me into a corner of the stable.
He used to beat and starve my mother. I have seen him use his heavy whip to
punish her till her body was covered with blood. When I got older I asked her
why she did not run away. She said she did not wish to; but I soon found out
that the reason she did not run away, was because she loved Jenkins. Cruel and
savage as he was, she yet loved him, and I believe she would have laid down her
life for him.
Now that I am old, I know that there are more men in the world like Jenkins.
They are not crazy, they are not drunkards; they simply seem to be possessed
with a spirit of wickedness. There are well-to-do people, yes, and rich people,
who will treat animals, and even little children, with such terrible cruelty,
that one cannot even mention the things that they are guilty of.
One reason for Jenkins' cruelty was his idleness. After he went his rounds in
the morning with his milk cans, he had nothing to do till late in the afternoon
but take care of his stable and yard. If he had kept them neat, and groomed his
horse, and cleaned the cows, and dug up the garden, it would have taken up all
his time; but he never tidied the place at all, till his yard and stable got so
littered up with things he threw down that he could not make his way about.
His house and stable stood in the middle of a large field, and they were at some
distance from the road. Passers-by could not see how untidy the place was.
Occasionally, a man came to look at the premises, and see that they were in good
order, but Jenkins always knew when to expect him, and had things cleaned up a
little.
I used to wish that some of the people that took milk from him would come and
look at his cows. In the spring and summer he drove them out to pasture, but
during the winter they stood all the time in the dirty, dark stable, where the
chinks in the wall were so big that the snow swept through almost in drifts. The
ground was always muddy and wet; there was only one small window on the north
side, where the sun only shone in for a short time in the afternoon.
They were very unhappy cows, but they stood patiently and never complained,
though sometimes I know they must have nearly frozen in the bitter winds that
blew through the stable on winter nights. They were lean and poor, and were
never in good health. Besides being cold they were fed on very poor food.
Jenkins used to come home nearly every afternoon with a great tub in the back of
his cart that was full of what he called "peelings." It was kitchen stuff that
he asked the cooks at the different houses where he delivered milk, to save for
him. They threw rotten vegetables, fruit parings, and scraps from the table into
a tub, and gave them to him at the end of a few days. A sour, nasty mess it
always was, and not fit to give any creature.
Sometimes, when he had not many "peelings," he would go to town and get