I don't suppose it will knock any of you people off your perch1 to read a contribution from an animal. Mr. Kipling and a good many others have demonstrated the fact that animals can express themselves in remunerative2 English, and no magazine goes to press nowadays without an animal story in it, except the old-style monthlies that are still running pictures of Bryan and the Mont Pelee horror.
But you needn't look for any stuck-up literature in my piece, such as Bearoo, the bear, and Snakoo, the snake, and Tammanoo, the tiger, talk in the jungle books. A yellow dog that's spent most of his life in a cheap New York flat, sleeping in a corner on an old sateen underskirt (the one she spilled port wine on at the Lady Longshoremen's banquet), mustn't be expcctcd to perform any tricks with the art of speech.
I was born a yellow pup; date, locality, pedigree and weight unknown. The first thing I can recollect3, an old woman had me in a basket at Broadway and Twenty-third trying to sell me to a fat lady. Old Mother Hubbard was boosting me to beat the band as a genuine Pomeranian-Hambletonian-Red-Irish-Cochin-China-Stoke-Pogis fox terrier. The fat lady chased a V around among the samples of gros grain flannelette in her shopping bag till she cornered it, and gave up. From that moment I was a pet--a mamma's own wootsey squidlums. Say, gentle reader, did you ever have a 200-pound woman breathing a flavour of Camembert cheese and Peau d'Espagne pick you up and wallop her nose all over you, remarking all the time in an Emma Eames tone of voice: "Oh, oo's um oodlum, doodlum, woodlum, toodlum, bitsy- witsy skoodlums?"
From a pedigreed yellow pup I grew up to be an anonymous4 yellow cur looking like a cross between an Angora cat and a box of lemons. But my mistress never tumbled. She thought that the two primeval pups that Noah chased into the ark were but a collateral5 branch of my ancestors. It took two policemen to keep her from entering me at the Madison Square Garden for the Siberian bloodhound prize.
I'll tell you about that flat. The house was the ordinary thing in New York, paved with Parian marble in the entrance hall and cobblestones above the first floor. Our fiat6 was three--well, not flights--climbs up. My mistress rented it unfurnished, and put in the regular things--1903 antique unholstered parlour set, oil chromo of geishas in a Harlem tea house, rubber plant and husband.
By Sirius! there was a biped I felt sorry for. He was a little man with sandy hair and whiskers a good deal like mine. Henpecked?-- well, toucans7 and flamingoes and pelicans8 all had their bills in him. He wiped the dishes and listened to my mistress tell about the cheap, ragged9 things the lady with the squirrel-skin coat on the second floor hung out on her line to dry. And every evening while she was getting supper she made him take me out on the end of a string for a walk.
If men knew how women pass the time when they are alone they'd never marry. Laura Lean Jibbey, peanut brittle10, a little almond cream on the neck muscles, dishes unwashed, half an hour's talk with the iceman, reading a package of old letters, a couple of pickles11 and two bottles of malt extract, one hour peeking12 through a hole in the window shade into the flat across the air-shaft--that's about all there is to it. Twenty minutes before time for him to come home from work she straightens up the house, fixes her rat so it won't show, and gets out a lot of sewing for a ten-minute bluff13.
I led a dog's life in that flat. 'Most all day I lay there in my corner watching that fat woman kill time. I slept sometimes and had pipe dreams about being out chasing cats into basements and growling14 at old ladies with black mittens15, as a dog was intended to do. Then she would pounce16 upon me with a lot of that drivelling poodle palaver17 and kiss me on the nose--but what could I do? A dog can't chew cloves18.
I began to feel sorry for Hubby, dog my cats if I didn't. We looked so much alike that people noticed it when we went out; so we shook the streets that Morgan's cab drives down, and took to climbing the piles of last December's snow on the streets where cheap people live.
One evening when we were thus promenading19, and I was trying to look like a prize St. Bernard, and the old man was trying to look like he wouldn't have murdered the first organ-grinder he heard play Mendelssohn's wedding-march, I looked up at him and said, in my way:
"What are you looking so sour about, you oakum trimmed lobster20? She don't kiss you. You don't have to sit on her lap and listen to talk that would make the book of a musical comedy sound like the maxims21 of Epictetus. You ought to be thankful you're not a dog. Brace22 up, Benedick, and bid the blues23 begone."
The matrimonial mishap24 looked down at me with almost canine25 intelligence in his face.
"Why, doggie," says he, "good doggie. You almost look like you could speak. What is it, doggie--Cats?"
Cats! Could speak!
But, of course, he couldn't understand. Humans were denied the speech of animals. The only common ground of communication upon which dogs and men can get together is in fiction.
In the flat across the hall from us lived a lady with a black-and-tan terrier. Her husband strung it and took it out every evening, but he always came home cheerful and whistling. One day I touched noses with the black-and-tan in the hall, and I struck him for an elucidation26.
"See, here, Wiggle-and-Skip," I says, "you know that it ain't the nature of a real man to play dry nurse to a dog in public. I never saw one leashed to a bow-wow yet that didn't look like he'd like to lick every other man that looked at him. But your boss comes in every day as perky and set up as an amateur prestidigitator doing the egg trick. How does he do it? Don't tell me he likes it."
"Him?" says the black-and-tan. "Why, he uses Nature's Own Remedy. He gets spifflicated. At first when we go out he's as shy as the man on the steamer who would rather play pedro when they make 'em all jackpots. By the time we've been in eight saloons he don't care whether the thing on the end of his line is a dog or a catfish27. I've lost two inches of my tail trying to sidestep those swinging doors."
The pointer I got from that terrier--vaudeville please copy--set me to thinking.
One evening about 6 o'clock my mistress ordered him to get busy and do the ozone28 act for Lovey. I have concealed29 it until now, but that is what she called me. The black-and-tan was called "Tweetness." I consider that I have the bulge30 on him as far as you could chase a rabbit. Still "Lovey" is something of a nomenclatural tin can on the tail of one's self respect.
At a quiet place on a safe street I tightened31 the line of my custodian32 in front of an attractive, refined saloon. I made a dead- ahead scramble33 for the doors, whining34 like a dog in the press despatches that lets the family know that little Alice is bogged35 while gathering36 lilies in the brook37.
"Why, darn my eyes," says the old man, with a grin; "darn my eyes if the saffron-coloured son of a seltzer lemonade ain't asking me in to take a drink. Lemme see--how long's it been since I saved shoe leather by keeping one foot on the foot-rest? I believe I'll--"
I knew I had him. Hot Scotches38 he took, sitting at a table. For an hour he kept the Campbells coming. I sat by his side rapping for the waiter with my tail, and eating free lunch such as mamma in her flat never equalled with her homemade truck bought at a delicatessen store eight minutes before papa comes home.
When the products of Scotland were all exhausted39 except the rye bread the old man unwound me from the table leg and played me outside like a fisherman plays a salmon40. Out there he took off my collar and threw it into the street.
"Poor doggie," says he; "good doggie. She shan't kiss you any more. 'S a darned shame. Good doggie, go away and get run over by a street car and be happy."
I refused to leave. I leaped and frisked around the old man's legs happy as a pug on a rug.
"You old flea41-headed woodchuck-chaser," I said to him--"you moon- baying, rabbit-pointing, eggstealing old beagle, can't you see that I don't want to leave you? Can't you see that we're both Pups in the Wood and the missis is the cruel uncle after you with the dish towel and me with the flea liniment and a pink bow to tie on my tail. Why not cut that all out and be pards forever more?"
Maybe you'll say he didn't understand--maybe he didn't. But he kind of got a grip on the Hot Scotches, and stood still for a minute, thinking.
"Doggie," says he, finally, "we don't live more than a dozen lives on this earth, and very few of us live to be more than 300. If I ever see that flat any more I'm a flat, and if you do you're flatter; and that's no flattery. I'm offering 60 to 1 that Westward42 Ho wins out by the length of a dachshund."
There was no string, but I frolicked along with my master to the Twenty-third street ferry. And the cats on the route saw reason to give thanks that prehensile43 claws had been given them.
On the Jersey44 side my master said to a stranger who stood eating a currant bun:
"Me and my doggie, we are bound for the Rocky Mountains."
But what pleased me most was when my old man pulled both of my ears until I howled, and said:
"You common, monkey-headed, rat-tailed, sulphur-coloured son of a door mat, do you know what I'm going to call you?"
I thought of "Lovey," and I whined45 dolefully.
"I'm going to call you 'Pete,'" says my master; and if I'd had five tails I couldn't have done enough wagging to do justice to the occasion.
1 perch | |
n.栖木,高位,杆;v.栖息,就位,位于 | |
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2 remunerative | |
adj.有报酬的 | |
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3 recollect | |
v.回忆,想起,记起,忆起,记得 | |
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4 anonymous | |
adj.无名的;匿名的;无特色的 | |
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5 collateral | |
adj.平行的;旁系的;n.担保品 | |
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6 fiat | |
n.命令,法令,批准;vt.批准,颁布 | |
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7 toucans | |
n.巨嘴鸟,犀鸟( toucan的名词复数 ) | |
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8 pelicans | |
n.鹈鹕( pelican的名词复数 ) | |
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9 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
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10 brittle | |
adj.易碎的;脆弱的;冷淡的;(声音)尖利的 | |
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11 pickles | |
n.腌菜( pickle的名词复数 );处于困境;遇到麻烦;菜酱 | |
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12 peeking | |
v.很快地看( peek的现在分词 );偷看;窥视;微露出 | |
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13 bluff | |
v.虚张声势,用假象骗人;n.虚张声势,欺骗 | |
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14 growling | |
n.吠声, 咆哮声 v.怒吠, 咆哮, 吼 | |
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15 mittens | |
不分指手套 | |
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16 pounce | |
n.猛扑;v.猛扑,突然袭击,欣然同意 | |
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17 palaver | |
adj.壮丽堂皇的;n.废话,空话 | |
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18 cloves | |
n.丁香(热带树木的干花,形似小钉子,用作调味品,尤用作甜食的香料)( clove的名词复数 );蒜瓣(a garlic ~|a ~of garlic) | |
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19 promenading | |
v.兜风( promenade的现在分词 ) | |
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20 lobster | |
n.龙虾,龙虾肉 | |
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21 maxims | |
n.格言,座右铭( maxim的名词复数 ) | |
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22 brace | |
n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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23 blues | |
n.抑郁,沮丧;布鲁斯音乐 | |
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24 mishap | |
n.不幸的事,不幸;灾祸 | |
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25 canine | |
adj.犬的,犬科的 | |
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26 elucidation | |
n.说明,阐明 | |
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27 catfish | |
n.鲶鱼 | |
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28 ozone | |
n.臭氧,新鲜空气 | |
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29 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
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30 bulge | |
n.突出,膨胀,激增;vt.突出,膨胀 | |
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31 tightened | |
收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 ); (使)变紧; (使)绷紧; 加紧 | |
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32 custodian | |
n.保管人,监护人;公共建筑看守 | |
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33 scramble | |
v.爬行,攀爬,杂乱蔓延,碎片,片段,废料 | |
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34 whining | |
n. 抱怨,牢骚 v. 哭诉,发牢骚 | |
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35 bogged | |
adj.陷于泥沼的v.(使)陷入泥沼, (使)陷入困境( bog的过去式和过去分词 );妨碍,阻碍 | |
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36 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
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37 brook | |
n.小河,溪;v.忍受,容让 | |
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38 scotches | |
n.伤口,刻痕( scotch的名词复数 );阻止车轮滑动的木块v.阻止( scotch的第三人称单数 );制止(车轮)转动;弄伤;镇压 | |
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39 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
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40 salmon | |
n.鲑,大马哈鱼,橙红色的 | |
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41 flea | |
n.跳蚤 | |
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42 westward | |
n.西方,西部;adj.西方的,向西的;adv.向西 | |
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43 prehensile | |
adj.(足等)适于抓握的 | |
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44 jersey | |
n.运动衫 | |
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45 whined | |
v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 );哀诉,诉怨 | |
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