RUFF, THE TERRIER.

Auckland Star, Volume LXII, Issue 192, 15 August 1931, Page 2 (Supplement)

RUFF, THE TERRIER.

(By Alma Wynn, <3ueen Street, Waihi; aged 13.) Ruff, the terrier, or the "terrible terror," as the gardener next door had nick-named him, squatted in -the middle of his own backyad and regarded everything around him with boredom. Even the sight of the Spitfire, the cut, also a member of the household, failed to rouse him to activities. He scorned her when fche bristled a challenge at him, and once more resumed his bored pose. But there was nothing to do; ho was tired of playing with the dogs along the street; tired of dragging all the cleanlywashed clothes in the mud; tired of burying bones, of chaeing the cat; of digging holes in the garden; tired of everything. Well, he would go and visit the neighbouring gardener. True, he was always chased home again with bricks, shouts, and anything the gardener could lay his hauds on, but at least, there was excitement in it. So Huff, the terrier, slipped through a recently-made hole in the fence (and probably one that the gardener knew nothing of), and explored the garden with interest. Luckily, the neighbour was not in sight. Ruff hoped devoutly that he was out, so that he might explore in peace. Presently he found himself down by the front gate. Before him he saw—now what was that? Ah, he knew, a newspaper. Yes, he liked newpa pere; he had torn several unread ones to pieces at home. So Ruff seized it in his teeth, and padded back along the path that led to the garden. He chose a spot in the middle of the pansy bed, and then lay down and proceeded to tea* the paper to bits. He had hardly begun upon this newly-found I amusement, when a door buret open and the gardener rushed out. "My pansy beds!" he yelled; "you . . terrible terror!" Ruff retreated much more quickly than he had come, but not before a well-aimed blow eaith lad strilck him an