Later, after the honeymoon, when earth had once more become their abode, Raggety visited the Brother-in-Law. He at once adopted him as a comrade, not that Brother-in-Law wanted to be so adopted, but that made no difference to Raggety’s enthusiasm. He insisted upon walking with him, and as there was deep snow that winter, my sister said she often would see her tall man approaching, followed by what looked like a yellow feather. Buried between the snow banks, only the tip of Raggety’s tail waved into sight. Then too he adopted Brother-in-Law’s favorite chair. Pushed out of it at first whenever its master wanted it, Raggety genially but continuously chose that special chair as his own place of repose and never offered to leave it voluntarily. Instead he would raise polite beseeching eyes, and with a casual wave of his tail, question, “You don’t really want this chair, do you?” It was all so politely, so serenely accomplished that in the end Raggety won out and kept the chair. Ever since then Brother-in-Law has had respect for the “silly dog” and even inquires how he does with a reminiscent chuckle. He remembers the episodes of the mud-bath and the winner of the disputed property-rights in special chairs.
How He “Borned His Baby”
During one winter it was not possible for me to keep Raggety with me. I had to find him a home in the village near enough so that I could go and get him for a daily walk. His home was with the family of one of the undergardeners, where there was already one baby girl toddling about and hugging Raggety to her heart’s content. He adores children, no amount of pulling or patting or hugging by tiny hands and arms can upset his good-nature. If his hair becomes too much involved, a faint growl warns tiny fingers to be more gentle, but Raggety can always be trusted with children.
So Raggety lived and played with the Donahues and then a new baby came. Mrs. Margaret faintly told them that Raggety was under the bed, so down on hands and knees got Mr. Donahue and the doctor, but no coaxing, no blandishments would dislodge the faithful little yellow dog who had mounted guard over his Margaret, who had been so good to him and was now in such mortal distress. Vicious snapping teeth and savage small glaring green eyes were the welcome given out-stretched hands which would have pulled him forth. There was much to be done otherwise, the attempted evictment was abandoned, the little dog-guardian was forgotten. So through the long night he waited without food, without water, without rest. In the dim light of early dawn, Mrs. Margaret lying quiet with a tiny baby on her right arm felt the gentle touch of a little dog’s paw on her shoulder. It was Raggety come to see her and the strange little bundle. She spoke his name, “Raggety,” he answered with a soft whimper of relief, sighed with pleasure and stretched himself on Margaret’s other arm, across from the new baby. Margaret was his Margaret, the baby was his baby.
How Raggety Met His Lovely Lady
He met His Lovely Lady long before I met her. And perhaps somewhere else she’ll tell you herself about their meeting, but this is what I know of it. I was going away for the summer to study and in a place where little dogs are not encouraged, so he had to stay behind, and Nellie Jones, who was in my Sunday School class and also my god-daughter, brought him to the train to say “Good-bye.” He was rather excited by the crowds and the train so I did not let him come out onto the platform but made Nellie stay in the waiting-room with him, and there I, with a sad heart, said good-bye for a little while. He wagged his tail encouragingly, his eyes fixed on mine waiting for that happy permission to go which I could not give; Nellie cried and clung about my neck and I hurried away so that the parting, which must be, might be quickly accomplished. I turned at the door and saw the sad little group, Nellie with her scant little skirt and long legs dangling from the bench, and sitting next to her, with that world-old look of infinite patience and of things not understood but endured, sat that little yellow comrade I was leaving behind. “Good-bye, Raggety. Good-bye, dear faithful little friend.”
How many times have I said it through the long years, but as many times have I said in greeting as I said at our very first meeting, “Raggety, Raggety, how do you do?” I dare not think of that time when I must say, “Good-bye, Raggety. Good-bye, dear faithful little friend,” with no hopes of a greeting to follow.
There the Lovely Lady found them, Nellie and Raggety. And two years later I told her of my little dog, for did not the Lovely Lady herself have precious tiny Balribbie of gentle memory. I told her of Raggety’s living at the Donahue’s, and how I missed his warm fluffiness. And then I spoke of one of the many homes Raggety and I have had together and she exclaimed with delight, “Why, I know Raggety!” And she’s going to tell you herself how they met.
His Devotion to His Lovely Lady
First of all the Lovely Lady loves dogs and knows what they think about, and what they like to do, and what they want. Then she has the most enchanting way of talking to you if you are a dog and a little fluffy dog. She has a dance that fills you with pleasure, so that you caper about her in sheer ecstasy of joy. Best of all her possessions, besides her own lovely self, is “Jeems.” Jeems is a terrier too, young, rather rough, but good company for a walk, and since Raggety has licked him into shape by many instructions of what to do and what not to do, administered in the shape of growls, Jeems is really an all-round good dog. When Raggety came to live near to his Lovely Lady and Jeems, he found that of a morning a breakfast with these friends started the day satisfactorily. So off he will start with never a thought of “Home and Mother,” when there is the prospect of a ’licious breakfast, to be followed by a walk in the woods.