Chapter Twenty Eight.
The following morning, I went with Nero to take a couple of fish out of the pool. As soon as Nero had caught them, he went into the other part of the bathing-pool to amuse himself, while I cleaned the fish, which I generally did before I went up to the cabin, giving him the heads and insides for his share, if I did not require any portion for the birds. Nero was full of play that morning, and when I threw the heads to him, as he frolicked in the water, he brought them out to the rocks; but instead of eating them, as usual, he laid them at my feet. I threw them in several times, and he continued to bring them out, and my mother, coming down to me, was watching him.
“I think,” said she, “you must teach Nero to fetch and carry like a dog—try. Instead of the heads, throw in this piece of wood;” which she now broke off the boat-hook staff.
I did so, and Nero brought it out, as he had done the heads of the fish. I patted and coaxed the animal, and tried him again several times with success.
“Now,” said my mother, “you must accustom him to certain words when you send him for anything. Always say, ‘Fetch it, Nero!’ and point with your finger.”
“Why am I to do that, mother?” I asked.
“Because the object to be gained is, not that the animal should fetch out what you throw in, but what you send it to bring out which you have not thrown in. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” replied I. “You mean, if there were anything floating near on the sea, I should send him for it.”