Memoirs of a Yellow Dog 173
In the flat across the hall from us lived a lady with a black-and-tan terrier. Her hus- band strung it and took it out every evening, but he always came home cheerful and whist- ling. 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 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 does he do it? Don't tell me he likes it."
"Him?" says the black-and-tan. "Why, he uses Nature's Own Remedy. He gets spif- flicated. 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 all jackpots. By the time we've been in eight saloons he don't care whether the thing on the end of his line is a dog or a catfish. I've lost two inches of my tail trying to sidestep those swinging doors."
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