I had not her sweet and patient disposition, and I would not go with
her. I watched her out of sight, and then ran up to the house to see if
Mrs. Jenkins had any scraps for me. I nearly always got something, for
she pitied me, and often gave me a kind word or look with the bits of
food that she threw to me.

When Jenkins come home, I often coaxed mother to run about and see some
of the neighbors' dogs with me. But she never would, and I would not
leave her. So, from morning to night we had to sneak about, keeping out
of Jenkins' way as much as we could, and yet trying to keep him in
sight. He always sauntered about with a pipe in his mouth, and his hands
in his pockets, growling first at his wife and children, and then at his
dumb creatures.

I have not told what became of my brothers and sisters. One rainy day,
when we were eight weeks old, Jenkins, followed by two or three of his
ragged, dirty children, came into the stable and looked at us. Then he
began to swear because we were so ugly, and said if we had been
good-looking, he might have sold some of us. Mother watched him
anxiously, and fearing some danger to her puppies, ran and jumped in the
middle of us, and looked pleadingly up at him.

It only made him swear the more. He took one pup after another, and
right there, before his children and my poor distracted mother, put an
end to their lives. Some of them he seized by the legs and knocked
against the stalls, till their brains were dashed out, others he killed
with a fork. It was very terrible. My mother ran up and down the stable,
screaming with pain, and I lay weak and trembling, and expecting every
instant that my turn would come next. I don't know why he spared me. I
was the only one left.