Sister and I were hauled away in the non-descript sort of station wagon driven by science teachers and bird watchers. It was a journey of some length, if I remember, because sister and I both needed to get to the grass long before we arrived. When the old car stopped and the old girl opened the door, I got under the machine as fast as I could and did my business against one of the rear wheels. Sister took off on her own. Then, the most extraordinary thing happened. The tall two-legged creature with the white beard got right down on the ground and began to drag me out by a back foot. I really thought he might eat me raw then and there. But he didn’t of course; he took me up, rubbed me a good deal and told me, “dog, dog, dog.” However did he know? Wonders may never cease.
Hollis came home with a pair of newly weaned puppies. They are mostly terrier, I suppose. The male looks like a beagle with Holstein lines. The female, also black and white, is strangely feral.
The little boy cowered first under the car and afterward against the front of the house. He looked like the Victrola dog just before an undeserved punishment. Hollis had an elaborate story of their origin and escape which will make a good movie some day. I shall buy a ticket because I have forgotten most of the key elements.
Of course they were glad to see me! The nice lady couldn’t say enough about my hair, my figure, and of course, my personality! The old man isn’t so bad either. He turns away from kisses like a shy schoolgirl.
But, for all that he is as gentle as any old dog you might name. What fun! There is room in all directions to run and every direction is full of the most amazing stinks!