Courtesy of “The Outing Magazine”
TOG THAWED INTO LIMP AND SERVILE AMIABILITY.
“Hi, Tog!” Jimmie complained. “Bide still!”
Tog slipped from Jimmie’s grasp and bounded off. He turned with a snarl.
“Here, Tog!” cried Jimmie.
Tog came––stepping warily over the snow. His head was low, his king-hairs bristling, his upper lip lifted.
“Ha, Tog, b’y!” said Jimmie, ingratiatingly.
Tog thawed into limp and servile amiability. The long, wiry white hair of his neck fell flat; he wagged his bushy white tail; he pawed the snow and playfully tossed his long, pointed nose as he crept near. But had Jimmie Grimm been more observant, more knowing, he would have perceived that the light in the lanky pup’s eyes had not mellowed.