"BUNTY."

Auckland Star, Volume LVII, Issue 67, 20 March 1926, Page 26

"BUNTY."

He walked into our schoolroom one | morning, a typical tramp dog, dirty, collarless and pitifully thin. We fed him, of course, but, having adopted a stray cat only the week before, felt we could not keep the dog too. Yet he stayed on, disdainfully scorned by "Bolivar," the cat, and idolized by the childern. They took turns in' bringing food from home, and the dog (called "Bunty" by the youngsters) grew handsome and sleek under their care. At night he slept on an old coat under my desk, writes L. B. Hegel, in an American paper. However, as the school term neared its close, Bunty became a problem. We did not know what to do with him. And, undoubtedly, he sensed the fact that he must part from his little friends soon, for he no longer frolicked as he did, and one- morning we found him under my desk with bloodshot eyes, breathing heavily. Thinking he might be developing a case of rabies, we carried him to the sheriff, who lived next door to the school, and asked that the dog be disposed of in a merciful fashion. This we thought the more humane way. But all mornng we could do no school work. With blurred eyes and trembling hands we listened for the shot that waß to end the life of our beloved pet. At the close of school, having heard no shot, we all trooped next door to inquire as to the end of our poor dog. To our surprise we found the sheriff seated on the porch, Bunty, tail wagging furiosly, in his lap. ■ The sheriff, seeing us, smiled sheepishly. "Mighty fine dog," he said. "He didn't have the rabies, just a cold, so I decided to keep him myself. Always, wanted a bulldog, anyway." The children were delighted beyond everything at hearing this news, and the sheriff was popularly acclaimed the hero of the hour. Bunty, too, 4 was as pleased with the arrangement as we were. Yet, though he loves his master dearly, he never forgets his old friends, and as soon as school opens in September pays us a call every morning.