Mother should have stayed home and licked my ears, but was cruising
about neighborhood. Finally coachman put me in dark place, powdered
ears, and they got well."

"Why didn't they cut your tail, too?" I said, looking at his long, slim
tail, which was like a sewer rat's.

"'Twasn't the fashion, Mr. Wayback; a bull-terrier's ears are clipped to
keep them from getting torn while fighting."

"You're not a fighting dog," I said.

"Not I. Too much trouble. I believe in taking things easy."

"I should think you did," I said, scornfully. "You never put yourself
out for any one, I notice; but, speaking of cropping ears, what do you
think of it?"

"Well," he said, with a sly glance at my head, "it isn't a pleasant
operation; but one might as well be out of the world as out of the
fashion. I don't care, now my ears are done."

"But," I said, "think of the poor dogs that will come after you."

"What difference does that make to me?" he said. "I'll be dead and out
of the way. Men can cut off their ears, and tails, and legs, too, if
they want to."

"Dandy," I said, angrily, "you're the most selfish dog that I ever saw."

"Don't excite yourself," he said, coolly. "Let me get on with my story.
When I was a few months old, I began to find the stable yard narrow, and
wondered what there was outside of it. I discovered a hole in the garden
wall, and used to sneak out nights. Oh, what fun it was. I got to know a
lot of street dogs, and we had gay times, barking under people's windows
and making them mad, and getting into back yards and chasing cats. We
used to kill a cat nearly every night. Policeman would chase us, and we
would run and run till the water just ran off our tongues, and we hadn't
a bit of breath left. Then I'd go home and sleep all day, and go out
again the next night. When I was about a year old, I began to stay out
days as well as nights. They couldn't keep me home. Then I ran away for
three months. I got with an old lady on Fifth Avenue, who was very fond
of dogs. She had four white poodles, and her servants used to wash them,
and tie up their hair with blue ribbons, and she used to take them for
drives in her phaeton in the park, and they wore gold and silver
collars. The biggest poodle wore a ruby in his collar worth five hundred
dollars. I went driving, too, and sometimes we met my master. He often
smiled, and shook his head at me. I heard him tell the coachman one day
that I was a little blackguard, and h