The first thing I remember was lying
close to my mother and being very snug and warm. The next thing I
remember was being always hungry. I had a number of brothers and
sisters--six in all--and my mother never had enough milk for us. She was
always half starved herself, so she could not feed us properly.
I am very unwilling to say much about my early life, I have lived so
long in a family where there is never a harsh word spoken, and where no
one thinks of ill-treating anybody or anything, that it seems almost
wrong even to think or speak of such a matter as hurting a poor dumb
beast.
The man that owned my mother was a milkman. He kept one horse and three
cows, and he had a shaky old cart that he used to put his milk cans in.
I don't think there can be a worse man in the world than that milkman.
It makes me shudder now to think of him. His name was Jenkins, and I am
glad to think that he is getting punished now for his cruelty to poor
dumb animals and to human beings. If you think it is wrong that I am
glad, you must remember that I am only a dog.
The first notice that he took of me when I was a little puppy, just able
to stagger about, was to give me a kick that sent me into a corner of
the stable.
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