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.

His children cried, and he sent them out of the stable and went out
himself. Mother picked up all the puppies and brought them to our
nest in the straw and licked them, and tried to bring them back to
life; but it was of no use, they were quite dead. We had them in
our corner of the stable for some days, till Jenkins discovered
them, and swearing horribly at us, he took his stable fork and
threw them out in the yard, and put some earth over them.

My mother never seemed the same after this. She was weak and
miserable, and though she was only four years old, she seemed like
an old dog. This was on account of the poor food she had been fed
on. She could not run after Jenkins, and she lay on our heap of
straw, only turning over with her nose the scraps of food I brought
her to eat. One day she licked me gently, wagged her tail, and died.

As I sat by her, feeling lonely and miserable. Jenkins came into the
stable. I could not bear to look at him. He had killed my mother.