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Updated: May 24, 2025
And our little dog Pitache made it the serious business of his life to keep the Mayne cats in what he considered their proper bounds. Major Appleby Cartwright, our neighbor to the other side of Miss Sally Ruth, has a theory that not alone by our fruits, but by our animals, shall we be known for what we are.
"An' he's so orthodox he thinks he'll get chucked out of dog-heaven, if he doesn't show his disapproval." The little dog did finally learn to accept the major's presence without outward protest; though the major declared that Pitache always hung down his tail when he came and hung it up when he left!
And my mother dislikes dogs intensely she's afraid of them, except those horrible little toy-things that aren't dogs any more." The scorn of the real dog-lover was in her voice. "Kerry's used to the Parish House. He loves the Padre, he'll soon love you, and he likes to play with Pitache, so Madame wouldn't mind his being here.
Through this aching desolation Kerry's cries stabbed like knife-thrusts.... And then little Pitache lifted his head, cocked a listening ear and an alert eye, perked up his black nose, thumped an expressive tail, and barked. It was a welcoming bark; Kerry, hearing it, stiffened statue-like at the window and fell to whining in his throat. The garden gate had clicked.
I had heard the train come and go this full hour since. Surely my wish was father to the thought that I saw him before me my old eyes were playing me a trick for I thought I saw John Flint walking up the garden path toward me! Pitache barked again, rose, stretched himself, and trotted to meet him, as he always did when the Butterfly Man came home.
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