Pussy and Doggy Tales

And footed like a catte.

And then they said I had no nose.

But Kerry explained to me that my master did not mean to find fault with the shape of my nose, but that what he wanted to be understood was that I had no nose for smelling rats. Kerry has, and he is ridiculously vain of this accomplishment.

"And you have no nose, you know, old boy," said Kerry; "why, you would let the rats run all over you and never know it."

I turned up my nose – my beautiful, pointed, handsome nose – and walked away without a word.

A few weeks afterwards my master brought home with him some white rats. Kerry was out at the time, but my master showed me the rats through the bars of their cage. He also showed me a boot and a stick. Although I have no nose, I was clever enough to put two and two together. Did I mention that there were two rats?

We were not allowed to go in the study, either of us, and my master put the rats there in their cage on the table.

That night, when everybody had gone to bed, I said to Kerry, "I may have no nose, old man, but I smell rats."

Kerry sniffed contemptuously.

"You!" said he, curling himself round in his basket; "I don't believe you could smell an elephant if there were one in the dresser drawer."

I kept my temper. "I am not feeling very well, Kerry," I said gently, "or I would go and see myself. But I am sure there are rats; I smell them plainly; they seem to be in the study."

"Go to sleep," he said; "you're dreaming, old man."

"Why don't you go and see?" I said. "If I didn't feel so very faint, I would go myself."

Kerry got out of his basket reluctantly. "I suppose I ought to go, if you are quite certain," he said; and he went.

In less than a minute he returned to the kitchen, trembling all over with excitement.

"Chappie!" he said; "Chappie!"

"Well?"

"There are rats," he whispered hoarsely; "there are rats in the study."

"Did you go in?" I asked.

"No, you know we're forbidden to go in, but I smelt them quite plainly. I can't smell them at all here," he said regretfully. "What a nose you have got, after all, Chappie!"

"What are you going to do, Kerry?" I asked.

"Why, nothing," he said; "we mustn't go in the study."

"Oh," I said, "rules weren't made for great occasions like this; it's your business to kill rats wherever they are."

And that misguided wire-haired person went up. He got them out of the cage, and killed them.

The next morning, when the master came down, he thrashed Kerry within an inch of his life. He knows I don't touch rats; and, besides, I was so unwell that nobody could have suspected me. And I explained to Kerry that, good as my nose is, I couldn't possibly tell by the smell that the rats were white, and, therefore, sacred. It was not worth while to mention that I had seen them before.

Kerry looks up to me now as a dog with a nose, and I am much happier than formerly. But Kerry is not nearly so keen on rats now. I thought somehow he wouldn't be.

The Tables Turned

WE knew it was a dog, directly the basket was set down in the hall. We heard it moving about inside. We sniffed all round. We asked it why it didn't come out (the basket was tightly tied up with string). "Are you having a good time in there?" said Roy. "Can't you show your face?" said I. "He's ashamed of it," said Roy, waving his long bushy tail. Then he growled a little, and the dog inside growled too; and then, as Roy had an appointment with the butcher at his own back door, I went out to see him home.

"I am so sorry I am going away for Christmas with my master," he said when we parted; "but you must introduce that new dog to me when I come home. We mustn't stand any of his impudence, eh?"

I was sorry Roy was going away, for Roy is my great friend. He always fights the battles for both of us. I daresay I might have got into the way of fighting my own battles, but I never like to interfere with anybody's pleasure, and Roy's chief pleasure is fighting. As for me, I think the delights of that recreation are over-estimated.

When my master came home, he opened the basket, and a dog of Irish family tumbled out, growling and snarling, and hid himself under the sofa. They wasted more biscuits on him than I have ever seen wasted on any deserving dog; and at last they got him out, and he consented to eat some supper. They gave him a much better basket than mine, and we went to bed.

Next morning, the Irish terrier got out of his basket, stretched himself, yawned, and insisted on thrashing me before breakfast.

"But I am a dog of peace," I said; "I don't fight."

"But I do, you see," he answered, "that's just the difference."

I tried to defend myself, but he got hold of one of my feet, and held it up. I sat up, and howled with pain and indignation.

"Have you had enough?" he said, and, without waiting for my answer, proceeded to give me more.

"But I don't fight," I said; "I don't approve of fighting."

"Then I'll teach you to have better manners than to say so," said he, and he taught me for nearly five minutes.

"Now then," he said, "are you licked?"

"Yes," I answered; for indeed I was.

"Are you sorry you ever tried to fight with me?"

"Yes," still seemed to be the only thing to say.

"And do you approve of fighting?"

He seemed to wish me to say "yes," and so I said it.

"Very well, then," he said; "now we'll be friends, if you like. Come along; you have given me an appetite for breakfast."

"Any society worth cultivating about here?" he asked, after the meal, in his overbearing way.

"I have a very great friend who lives next door," I said; "but I don't know whether I should care to introduce you to him."

He showed his teeth, and asked what I meant.

"You see, you might not like him; and, if you didn't like him – but he's a most agreeable dog."

"A good fighter?" asked Rustler.