Rick and Ruddy: The Story of a Boy and His Dog

by Howard Roger Garis

It was not because he wanted to eat air for his breakfast, but the air, and the wind, which is only air in motion, might bring to him the whiff, or smell, that would tell him where he could find food.

Now from the ocean came the smell of the salty sea. Ruddy was sure he had had enough of that. But as he turned his nose inshore he caught the smell of men and boys and horses—the human smell, so to speak, and he knew that there, if anywhere, he would find something to eat.

And so, traveling on rather weak and uncertain legs, because he needed food, Ruddy started toward the little village of Belemere, where Rick, the boy, lived. Though, of course, Ruddy did not yet know that.

It was early, for the sun was just rising, and not many persons were up and about. Here a milkman was going his rounds, and soon the baker would follow, for even in the little fishing town few did their own baking, at least of their daily bread, and there were scarcely any cows.

Ruddy looked at the rattling milk wagon. He knew what was in the cans and bottles, and he would have loved a drink of milk. But the man on the wagon had not time for small, brown puppies, even if he had seen Ruddy, which perhaps he did not.

The baker, too, might have tossed him a roll, for there were many in the wooden bin back of the seat. But the baker did not give Ruddy a thought.

And so the homeless dog walked slowly on, sniffing here and there trying to find, in the only way he knew, something to eat. And, as luck would have it, Ruddy turned into the yard of the house where Rick lived. There seemed to be no one up, and so, from having been a sort of a tramp dog in at least half of the days he had thus far lived, Ruddy trotted around to the back door. That is where tramps—whether men or dogs—always go; to the back door. Later on they may use the front way.

Ruddy knew at back doors there were sometimes boxes, barrels or cans filled with what might be called food. It was not as nice as he could have wished, but often he had found a perfectly good bone in this way—a bone which was not too hard for his puppy teeth that were fast growing stronger.

"I hope I find some meat this morning," thought Ruddy. "There isn't much on a bone, lots of times it's almost bare, and I'm terribly hungry!"

He saw some cans at the back door. From one came the delicious smell of meat, and with a joyful yelp Ruddy began nosing about it. The cover was on the can, but Ruddy knew how to shove this off—that is if it were not on too tightly.