Bobtail Meg was registered. I bought her by mail; I sent the money but no dog came. After writing a number of letters which were not answered, I applied to a lawyer. He wrote–Meg came. Her seller claimed that the dog had been run over on the way…

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Every reature accepting domesticity is entitled to a name. It enraged me to find, perhaps a year later, that a pup I had sold was adult and unnamed, or was just called “Pup,” “Tyke,” or some general name. Were humans so blind that a creature’s peculiarities suggested no…

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The butcher lifted half a pig’s head to his nose, sent it flying with a disgusted hurl into the bundle of scrap that Bobtail Meg was waiting to carry home in her saddle-bags for the kennel. Meg loved to lug the butcher-scraps home for me. When her saddle-bags…

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