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... n'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 maxims of
Epictetus. You ought to be thankful you're not a dog. Brace up,
Benedick, and bid the blues begone."
The matrimonial mishap looked down at me with almost canine intelligence
in his face.
"Why, doggie," says he, "good doggie. You almost look company insurance like you could
speak. insurance brokers 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 insurance brokers together is in fiction.
In the flat across the hall insurance brokers from us lived a lady with a black-and-tan
terrier.
Her husband strung it and took it out ThirdPart400_500 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 elucidation.
"See, here, Wiggle-and-Skip," I says, "you know that it ain't the nature
of a real man to play dry company insurance 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 insurance companies does
he do it? Don't insurance company title="company insurance">company insurance 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 insurance brokers all jackpots. By
the time we've been in insurance brokers eight saloons he don't care whether the thing on
the end of his line is a dog or a agent insurance catfish. 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 ozone act for Lovey. I have concealed it until now, but that is what
she called me. The black-and-tan was called "Tweetness." I insurance brokers consider
that I have the bulge 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 tightened the line of my custodian
in front of an attractive, refined saloon. I made a dead-ahead scramble
for the doors, whining like a dog in the press despatches that lets insurance brokers the
family know that little Alice is bogged while gathering lilies in the
brook.
"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 Scotches he took, business insurance 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 insurance brokers home.
When the products of Scotland were all exhausted except the rye bread
the old man unwound me from the table leg and played me outside like a
fisherman plays a salmon. Out there he took off my collar and threw it
into the street.
"Poor ThirdPart400_500 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 insurance brokers happy."
I refused to leave.
I leaped and frisked around the old man's legs happy
as a pug on a rug.
"You old flea-headed woodchuck-chaser," I said to him--"you moon-baying,
rabbit-pointing, egg-stealing old beagle, ca ... |
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