LOST A DOG.

Otago Witness, Issue 2004, 21 July 1892, Page 43

LOST A DOG.

Br Abtee Maht. It was a beautiful morning. I had started from home in all tbe freshness acd vigour of youth, and as I proceeded citywards I drank in all the pleasure of that summer morn, as only one with a perfectly easy mind can do. Ah I I little knew what lay in store for me ere that glorious sunlight should fade into eventide. There were several reasons why I should feel happier and more contented than usual. For one tbiDg, I had had a less hurried meal than usual, and for another, a young dog, lately acquired by my fraternal relative, had managed during tbe previous day to make himself scarce, the consequence being that we were able to spend one night in peace for once secure from canine vocal interruptions. Bat my cup of bliss was soon to be spoilt. It started when I met Jim Apple torj, who broke in upon my meditations with, " What's he like ? " " What's who like ? " " Your dog." I described the animal to the best of my ability and passed on, Jim saying he'd " do bis best" for me. I felt this was particularly kind of him, only I couldn't make oat why he should become so suddenly curious about our dog ; nor could I understand why he should be so solicitous on my behalf that morning. I hadn't much time for reflection, however, for another interrogator loomed up. Said he : " Well, how's the pup ? Has he got a black nose ? " I told him the pap had a black nose, and I further informed him I didn't particularly care luno the pup was. "Ohl hasn't taken you long to change then. You needn't be so grumpy. I'll do what I can," and he departed. I traversed another block, and met Joe Tattle. He said : " Say, about the dog I Has he a white tail ? " "No, he has not; but he's got a Hack tail with a white tip/ This seemed to satisfy him, and, as he wenf, he said be would let me know. There was a grain of comfort in this. There could not have been a more anxious human being wanting "to kcow " that morning than I. I was undecided. The cause of my indecision was the query, " Am I, or aie they, mad ? " I was still puzzling over this question wheu I entered the office to meet with a striDg oE other queries having an intimate bearing upon this one. At least they seemed to be in the dog line, and the air was thick with them, thus: " Are his paws white?" " Is he white on the side of his face or is it a patch ? " "Does he hold his head down with his tongae hang ng oat as he wa'ks along ? " " Where did you lo3e hitn ? " " Was he a pup or a full-grown dog ? " " How old is he ? " "Is one of his eye 3 out and has he got a piece chawed off his ear 1 " "Goon 1 " I exclaimed. " Keep it up. I oan see it's a put-up job." I said this because it then dawnsd upon me that by some means or other they knew of our dog's disappearance, and were evidently giving rue a little badinage for their own amusement. So I went off to my desk, with the remark, as a grim smile spread itself o'er ray annoyed and heated visage, " All right ! Ask something else. If you see fuu in it I don'r. But that doesn't matter. Come over and all speak at once." Bat they didn't. They left me alone. I wae too bosy to brood over my lot during the forenoon, but at lunch time when I got a ohance, as I wandered nlong the street, I found I wa3 not to get time even for that lugubrious employment, for the questioning met me in full blast again. Every second man I met wanted to know something about my dog. They all seemed to have an idea he had white spots or something of that sort, and they founded a number of what appeared to me to be irrelevant inquiries upon it toe.

If ever I had an intense desire to put an end to the existence of erery dog in creation I had it that day. Wherever I went, do what I would, the ever-recurring canine questions cropped up. They whispered hoveringly around me at the office; they spoke out clarion voiced at the streets, corner ; and as a climax somew here about ths middle of the afternoon they haunted me through the telephone. I answered tb<j ring of the latter'a bell, and the following conversation ensued : "Ia that the Great News Agency 1 " " Yes." " Is Mr Maht there ? " " Yes. Speaking." "Oh 1 I think we've found your dog. Will you come up for him? He's a fearful nuisance, and " But with a muttered execration as brief pi expressive I had hung up the instrument and dashed away from it. As I did so I ran up against Tim Drawley. " Halloa I " he exclaimed. " What's the matter, old fellow 1 " " Matter enough 1 " I splattered. " Some one has gone and rung me up on the telephone to worry me about Jack's dog, which they iv their imbecility, imagine to ba mhie ? " " Well, I dont see how they could do otherwise when you advertised in the plain way you did." " Advertise 1 What the deuce do you mean ? I never advertised." "Oh ! no ; not in this morning's paper I S'pose I imagined it ! " and off he went and brought the paper. Pointing 131 3 one of the " Lost and Found " items, he said : " Perhaps you'll deny that." I took the paper and read : " Lost a black dog with while points. Please return to Artec Maht, Great New 3 Agency's Office. Reward." Onee — twice I read it. Then gazed in silent amazement at Drawley. "Well," from him, "s'pose you don't know anything about it yet I " '• No, I assure you I don't." My evident astonishment somewhat mollified him, and he suggested that perhaps Jack could explain matters. When we finished he and I sought out Jack and asked him about it. " Put in an advertisement ? yes ; have y ju found him ? " This was more than I could stind. Had I suffered all day for him to coolly ask if we had fonnd the dog ? "So you put it in ! " I indignantly ejacui lated. " What did you forge my name for ? Why couldn't you put your own 7 Why didn't you tell me what you had done ? " "How on earth could I tell you when I didn't got back here till after you had gone 1 " " But," I persisted, " why use my name ? " " Because I knew I wouldn't bo in town until to-night, and I thought it would be handier for people to see you at the office ; and if you weren't an infernal idiot you'd have guessed that. You might have brought the dog borne, too, and saved me tbe trouble of going away op there for him to-night." It was no use arguing with a man so coldblooded as that, so I said nothing. I was too weary. I had bad enough dog that day, and the idea of my going for him and bringing him home was tbe last straw for my back — it broke it. Thenceforth I boie an antipathy towards the whole canine raco which I kept until I found that as the dog grew up he was occasionally a source of annoyance to his master. Then my heart warmed towards him till at last I gradually grew to like that dog, for I felt that while he lived I was being avenged for all my sufferings. So I forgave him.