“MR. BROWN.”

Thames Star, Volume LXIII, Issue 17528, 17 January 1929, Page 6

“MR. BROWN.”

A DOG WHO KNEW HIS WAY ROUND. He pressed agfl|nst us gf the street crossing, obviously with intention. We looked down. He was a thickset terrier, the colour of white velvet, a little darkness under the white. . He looked up at us, obviously a dog of character. He wanted something. We understood. He meant to take us for a walk. A more urbane citizen of London I have hot-known (writes Katherin Tynan, the well-known novelist, in the London Daily Mail). He led us into the traffic with all the accustomed masterliness of the policeman oil point duty, awaiting our slow progress on an island, his tail going as fast as it was his nature to wag it. He had a deliberate way. with him.

turned eyy made suggestions. . . . Whither? We were going for a walk, and~.be fell in with the idea. He was a most agreeable companion. For the duration of that walk he was ours —going before us in a high mood of exploration, returning to see if we were alll right, pressing against us with ‘a confiding air, refusing to he detached by the dogs we met. Was he a lost’ dog given to us by some kind, fate? His looks belied that. He was fat and well-living. The despair of the lost dog had never laid hold upon him. Besides, he was not such a dog as gets lost; : c was London’s., citizen, a citizen W the world. While we paused and considered him he sat down and considered us. I think he liked our company, but despised our intelligence. He wore a collar. We had not thought of consulting that collar. We were very near dog-stealing at that moment. If the collar had been nameless —I do not know what we might not ’have done. “You’ve .got to go home ; miles,” we said to him. It seemed ridiculous to say it to a dog of his quality. “There ar e hundreds of crossings. You can come in and have dinner, of course. Afterwards we may take you home in a taxi-cab.” He yawned prodigiously. Plainly he had known people like us before. We felt humbly that we bored him. He waited with ineffable patience, a little too obvious for good manners, while we examined bis collar. It bore the inscription: “Mr Brown, Kensington Court. Don’t bother, please, I know my way home.” He smiled while we read it. Obviously h e was accustomed to such happenings. He must have taken hundreds of people for walks. He parted froh us urbanely. We

looked for him long: in vain. Then we caught sight of him, with his master obviously. He made as though he nodded with a sideways eye. He had plainly no use for us; but it had been an agreeable walk. Again we thought we caught sight of him between a throng of women close pressed. He was gazing in at a shop window as though he did it every afternoon, like the women. We thought the window showed dogs’ 1 collars, coats and toilet articles, but that may have been a mistake. This shop might have been a more suit- | able choice for dogs of the vappy ] sort. j But it may not have been Mr . Brown, after all. j