The Tale of Old Dog Spot Part 1

The Tale of Old Dog Spot.

by Arthur Scott Bailey.

I

ALMOST TWINS

n.o.body ever spoke of old Spot's master as "old Johnnie Green." Yet the two--boy and dog--were almost exactly the same age. Somehow Spot grew up faster than Johnnie. He had stopped being a puppy by the time his young master learned to walk. And when Johnnie was big enough to play around the farm buildings his parents felt sure that he was safe so long as "old Spot," as they called the dog, was with him.

Spot thought himself years older than the small boy; or at least he always acted so. If a goose hissed at little, toddling Johnnie Green, old Spot would drive the goose away, barking in a loud voice, "Don't you frighten this child!" If Johnnie went into the stable and wandered within reach of the horses' heels Spot would take hold of his clothes and draw him gently back out of danger. And if Johnnie strayed to the duck pond the old dog wouldn't leave him even to chase the cat, but stayed right there by the pond, ready to pull his young charge out of the water in case he happened to fall in.

Spot seemed to enjoy his task of taking care of Johnnie Green. It wasn't all work. A great deal of pleasure went with his duties, for Johnnie Green never wanted to do anything but play. And Spot wasn't so grown up that he couldn't enjoy a lively romp. For that matter, he never did get over his liking for boisterous fun.

Still, there were some kinds of sport that he didn't care for. He wasn't fond of having such things as tin cans tied to his tail. He disliked to be harnessed to a toy wagon. He hated to have his ears pulled. Yet there was only one offense that ever made him growl. When Johnnie Green took a bone away from him Spot couldn't help warning him, with a deep, rumbling grumbling, that he was going too far, even between friends. But he never snapped at Johnnie. That growling was only Spot's way of teaching Johnnie Green manners.

Fond as he was of his young master, Spot did not care to spend all his time playing childish games. There were grown-up things that he liked to do--things in which a toddler like Johnnie Green couldn't take part.

Around the farmhouse there were always the cat to be teased and squirrels to be chased into trees. In the pasture there were woodchucks to be hunted; and even if he couldn't catch them it was fun to see those fat fellows tumble into their holes.

Then there were the cows. Spot loved to help Farmer Green drive them home late in the afternoon. He acted very important when he went for the cows, always pretending that it was hard work, though he really thought it great sport.

Sometimes when Johnnie Green wanted to play with Spot the old dog couldn't be found anywhere. He might be over the hill, visiting a neighbor's dog. He might be in the woods, looking for birds. He might even have followed a wagon to the village.

As Johnnie Green grew older he roamed through the woods with Spot. And when Johnnie's father at last let him own a gun, old Spot was as pleased as Johnnie was.

"I've been waiting for this event for several years," Spot told the Muley Cow.

She did not share his delight.

"For pity's sake, keep that boy and his gun out of the pasture!" she bellowed. "It frightens me to have him come near me with his blunderbuss."

Old Spot gave her a pitying look.

"It's plain," he said, "that you don't come from a sporting family, as I do, or you'd never speak in that fas.h.i.+on of a nice new shotgun. You know I'm a sporting dog. I'm a pointer. I point out the game for the hunters."

The Muley Cow gave a sort of snort and tossed her head.

"It's lucky for Johnnie Green," she sniffed, "that I'm not a sporting cow, or he might not have any b.u.t.ter on his bread."

II

TEASING THE CAT

When Miss Kitty Cat came to the farmhouse to live she soon showed old dog Spot that she could fight like a vixen. The first time he cornered her she put some scratches on his nose that he never forgot. And after that he always took great pains to keep out of reach of Miss Kitty's claws.

So long as Miss Kitty Cat ran away from him Spot would follow her, yelping madly. But when she stopped, he stopped too, digging his own claws into the dirt in order to leave a safe distance between Miss Kitty and his nose.

He quickly discovered that there were ways in which he could tease Miss Kitty Cat that annoyed her greatly, while keeping his nose out of harm's way. Growling always made her tail grow big. Barking made her spit at him. But there was something else that angered her still more. When Spot stood stock still one day, with his tail stuck straight out behind him, and pointed at her with his nose, he made her almost frantic.

"What are you pointing at with that long nose of yours?" Miss Kitty Cat snarled.

Spot didn't say a word. For the moment he didn't move any more than the iron dog did, that stood in a yard on the outskirts of the village and never so much as wagged his tail from one year's end to another.

Somehow Spot's queer behavior gave Miss Kitty Cat an odd, creepy feeling along her back. Her fur rose on end. She glared at Spot and spat at him in a most unladylike fas.h.i.+on.

Spot found it very hard to stand still and never let out a single yelp.

Once he almost whined. But he managed to stifle the sound.

"If she swells up much more she's likely to burst," he thought.

"Go away!" Miss Kitty scolded. "Don't you know better than to stare at a lady?"

Never an answer did old Spot make.

It was a little more than Miss Kitty Cat could endure. With a yowl that had in it something of anger and something of fear, too, she jumped off the doorstep where she had been sitting and whisked around the corner of the house.

With Miss Kitty's first leap Spot came suddenly to life. He barked joyfully and followed her. Miss Kitty Cat ran up a tree in the yard and stayed there until Spot went off chuckling.

"I'm glad I played that trick on her," he said to himself. "It seems to bother her more than anything else I've ever tried."

Thereafter Spot often pointed at Miss Kitty when he met her, either inside the house or about the yard. And she never failed to fly into a pa.s.sion.

"Such manners I never saw!" she spluttered when she talked one day with a cat from the nearest farmhouse.

"I'd soon cure the old dog of that unpleasant trick if he tried it on me," her neighbor remarked.

"What would you do?" Miss Kitty Cat wanted to know.

"I'd chase him."

"He can run faster than I can," said Miss Kitty.

"When he's pointing at you, jump at him before he can turn around. If you drag your claws across his nose just once he'll be careful after that to look the other way when he sees you."

"Your plan sounds as if it might be worth trying," said Miss Kitty thoughtfully.

III

A WILD DOG