“It’s an extraordinary thing, even so,” he said, puffing. “Every dog nowadays seems to look upon me as his long-lost master, but it wasn’t always so. I hated dogs and they hated me.”
Not wishing to say “Really” or “Indeed” to this big, outdoor man, I simply grunted my surprise.
“Yes, we were born enemies. More than that, I was afraid of dogs. A little fuzzy toy dog, ambling up to me in a room full of company, with his tail wagging, gave me the shudders. I couldn’t touch the beast. And as for big dogs outdoors, I feared them like the plague. I would go blocks out of my way to avoid one.
“I don’t remember being particularly cowardly about other things, but I just couldn’t help this. It was in my blood, for some reason or other. It was the bane of my existence. I couldn’t see what the brutes were put into the world for, or how any one could have anything to do with them.
“And the dogs reciprocated. They disliked and distrusted me. The most docile old Brunos would growl and show their teeth when I came near.”
“Did the change come suddenly?” I asked.
“Quite. It was in 1901. I accepted a commission from an importing and trading company to go to the Philippines to do a little quiet exploring, and spent four months in the sickly place. Then I got the fever, and when I recovered I couldn’t get out of there too soon.
“I reached Manila just in time to see the mail steamer disappearing around the point, and I was mad. There would be another in six days, but I couldn’t wait. I was just crazy to get back home.
“I made inquiries and learned of an old tramp steamer, named the Old Squaw, making ready to leave for Honolulu on the following day with a cargo of hemp and stuff, and a bunch of Moros for some show in the States, and I booked passage on that.
“She was the worst old tub you ever saw. I didn’t learn much about her, but I verily believe her to have been a condemned excursion boat. She wouldn’t have been allowed to run to Coney Island.