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Don; The Story Of A Greedy Dog
by
He meant to put it to the test very soon, though–if only he could get rid of Jock.
‘By the way,’ he said carelessly, ‘have you been round by the hotel lately?’
‘No,’ answered Jock, ‘not since the ostler threw a brush at me.’
‘Well,’ said Don, ‘there was a bone outside the porch, which, if I hadn’t been feeling so poorly, I should have had a good mind to tackle myself. But perhaps some other dog has got hold of it by this time.’
‘I’ll soon make him let go if he has!’ said Jock, who liked a fight almost as well as a bone. ‘Where was it, did you say?’
‘Outside the hotel. Don’t let me keep you. It was a beautiful bone. Good-morning,’ said Don.
He did not think it worth while to explain that he had seen it several days ago, for Don, as you will have remarked already, was a very artful dog.
He got rid of his unwelcome friend in this highly unprincipled manner, and strolled on to the pier full of expectation. Steamers ply pretty frequently on this particular lake, so he had not to wait very long. The little Cygnet soon came hissing up, and the moment the gangway was placed Don stepped on board, with tail proudly erect.
As usual, he examined the passengers, first to see who had anything to give, then who looked most likely to give it to him. Generally he did best with children. He was not fond of children (Daisy was quite an exception), but he was very fond of cakes, and children, he had observed, generally had the best cakes. Don was so accomplished a courtier that he would contrive to make every child believe that he or she was the only person he loved in the whole world, and he would stay by his victim until the cake was all gone, and even a little longer, just for the look of the thing, and then move on to some one else and begin again.
There were no children with any cakes or buns on board this time, however. There was a stout man up by the bows, dividing his attention between scenery and sandwiches; but Don knew by experience that tourists’ sandwiches are always made with mustard, which he hated. There were three merry-looking, round-faced young ladies on a centre bench, eating Osborne biscuits. He wished they could have made it sponge-cakes, because he was rather tired of Osborne biscuits; but they were better than nothing. So to these young ladies he went, and, placing himself where he could catch all their eyes at once, he sat up in the way he had always found irresistible.
I don’t suppose any dog ever found his expectations more cruelly disappointed. It was not merely that they shook their heads, they went into fits of laughter–they were laughing at him! Don was so deeply offended that he took himself off at once, and tried an elderly person who was munching seed-cake; she did not laugh, but she examined him carefully, and then told him with a frown to go away. He began to think that Daisy’s collar was not a success; he ought to have had a mug, or a blind man, or both; he did much better when he was left to himself.
Still he persevered, and went about, wagging his tail and sitting up appealingly. By and by he began to have an uncomfortable idea that people were saying things about him which were not complimentary. He was almost sure he heard the word ‘greedy,’ and he knew what that meant: he had been taught by Daisy. They must be talking of some other dog–not him; they couldn’t possibly know what he was!
Now Don was undeniably a very intelligent terrier indeed, but there was just this defect in his education–he could not read: he had no idea what things could be conveyed by innocent-looking little black marks. ‘Of course not,’ some of my readers will probably exclaim, ‘he was only a dog!’ But it is not so absurd as it sounds, for one very distinguished man has succeeded in teaching his dogs to read and even to spell, though I believe they have not got into very advanced books as yet. Still, it may happen some day that all but hopelessly backward or stupid dogs will be able to read fluently, and then you may find that your own family dog has taken this book into his kennel, and firmly declines to give it up until he has finished it. At present, thank goodness, we have not come to this, and so there is nothing remarkable in the mere fact that Don was unable to read. I only mention it because, if he had possessed this accomplishment, he would never have fallen into the trap Daisy had prepared for him.