Moreover, there was no food at
night. And there was nobody to play with or to go for walks with
or to listen to. There was nothing but gloom and silence and
dullness. When a puppy takes fifty cat-naps in the course of the
day, he cannot always be expected to sleep the night through. It
is too much to ask. And Lad's waking hours at night were times of
desolation and of utter boredom. True, he might have consoled
himself, as does many a lesser pup, with voicing his woes in a
series of melancholy howls. That, in time, would have drawn
plenty of human attention to the lonely youngster; even if the
attention were not wholly flattering.
But Lad did not belong to the howling type. When he was unhappy,
he waxed silent. And his sorrowful eyes took on a deeper woe. By
the way, if there is anything more sorrowful than the eyes of a
collie pup that has never known sorrow, I have yet to see it.
No, Lad could not howl. And he could not hunt for squirrels. For
these enemies of his were not content with the unsportsmanliness
of climbing out of his reach in the daytime, when he chased them;
but they added to their sins by joining the rest of the
world,--except Lad,--in sleeping all night.
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