“Well, as I was saying,” continued Tommy, “I enjoyed life immensely. Towser was a fine old fellow, and he and I used to romp and play with the children most of the time.”
“Your life must indeed have been very happy, and I wonder that you could ever have left so pleasant a home, friend Tommy,” said Fido.
“Ah! my dear old friend, there was never dream of bliss so fair that no cloud e’er came to mar the beauty of its skies. Trouble came to that happy household, and within a few weeks all was sadly changed, and I was again a waif of the streets.
“The baby had been ailing for some time, and we could see that the doctor was very uneasy about him. The poor little fellow finally developed some brain trouble or other—I can’t remember the Latin name of it, but I believe it was what old Dr. Cochran over at ‘The Corners,’ used to call ‘Water on the brain,’ or Meningeetus,’ or something like that.
“Well, the poor little fellow didn’t stand his sickness very long. It was just awful to see him wasting away, getting weaker and weaker every day. He used to notice me quite a little at first, but after a while he didn’t seem to know me any more. I had suspected this for a day or two, but it seemed too horrible for belief. It was soon plain, however, that dear little Harry no longer recognized those who loved him, and for the first time it dawned upon me that my darling playmate was soon to be called away forever. Baby dropped off to sleep one night, and the doctor said that he thought the little one was better. He deceived everybody but me—I had seen babies go to sleep that way before, lots o’ times.
“As I feared, Harry never awoke again in this world. I heard Ethel say the angels had taken him away to Heaven—a grand, beautiful place that human folks say is up yonder some where beyond the clouds. If that was true, the angels were mighty mean—for we were all broken-hearted.
“If Ethel was right about Harry going to Heaven, I hope there’s room for dogs and cats up there. Poor old Towser fell sick and died soon after the baby went, and I would feel better about the little one’s death if I knew that Towser was with him. The faithful old dog used to take such good care of the dear little pet. Then, too, I might see them again some day, and we could live the old happy days over again. Don’t mind my emotion, Fido, I loved Harry very dearly. Bless my whiskers, old chap, if you are not crying too!
“After they had put our sweet little blossom into a cruel white, frosted looking box and taken him away, the house seemed as gloomy as an old cellar. Nobody ever seemed to be happy again. Ethel and Johnny mourned after little Harry all the time, and many a time I caught the doctor crying softly to himself when he thought no one was looking. He didn’t think I understood, poor fellow.
“The doctor appeared to be more like his old self again, after a time, but he seemed to work harder than ever before. He sat up very late o’ nights reading and writing—that is, when he had no patients to attend to. My! how he used to slave over those people! And half of ’em never paid their bills, either. The doctor didn’t mind the poor ones, but he used to say that ‘God’s patients’ never gave him half so much trouble as ‘the devil’s patients.’ Sometimes I half suspected that the doctor was working hard just to get little Harry off his mind, but perhaps I was not a good judge of such things.
“Well, a man is not a horse; he can’t carry a big load very long without breaking down, and the doctor soon showed signs of exhaustion. It grieved me to see him going to pieces, but I was helpless. I felt that it would be a very delicate matter to even attempt to advise him. And so I was obliged to watch my unfortunate master dying by inches before my very eyes.