Me and Jeems
(Raggety speaks)
Jeems is bigger than Me, but much, much younger and not half so clever; but that is partly due to his bringing-up, which of course he can not help, poor Pup!
Jeems belongs to The Lovely Lady and as Hers I thoroughly love and respect him. Of course I too belong in a kind of way to The Lovely Lady, for I love Her and she loves Me. Jeems came to take the place of dear gentle Balribbie who died. I never saw pretty Balribbie; perhaps if she had not died before I came to live here, our Mistresses might have let us marry and there would have been little Raggeties and tiny Balribbies. But pshaw! These are the Dream Puppies of an old bachelor dog!
(Don’t be surprised that I know aboutdear Charles Lamb, for I live in a literary atmosphere and there is much writing going on all about Me!)
Jeems is anything but a dream!—except of course in looks, for he is very handsome and his tail is all right,—though Mistress would rather I did not mention tails. Funnily enough, mine never bothers me the way it does her. Well, Jeems is a bouncing barking breathless brother. But he’s being trained to be awful particular, more’s the pity, for he’s a true democrat at heart.
This in-breeding training of his makes him a bit slow. When we both sit up and beg for those good sweet crackers at afternoon-tea, I always get his share too, for he’s slow at finding. Of course his Mistress always sees that he gets enough, but he’s never had to fend for himself andIhave, and it makes a dog or a man mighty sharp, doesn’t it? Jeems has had milk and chicken in painted saucers eversince he was born. I’ve told him how especially good very old chicken bones out of a garbage pail are, but his tastes remain simple. I can’t get up his enthusiasm!
Jeems never goes out alone as I do. And he is always cleaned and combed so that The Lovely Lady doesn’t like him to get muddy in water-rat holes or stuck up with burrs. But with The Lovely Lady as companion and guide, Me and Jeems have elegant walks! Of course occasionally I have to break through and lie in a mud-puddle just to get the Nature-feel, but I know that Jeems and The Lovely Lady are both helpful to me, as they are refined and particular. It is not good for even a dog always to lead a dog’s life.
Best of all, Jeems speaks my language—doggerel, does one call it? Even when humans are dear and good and kind, one’s native tongue is sweet in the ears. So when Jeems and I dash down the halltogether and he shouts, “Hurrah, here goes for a run!” I shout back as sharp and loud as I can, “Hi, Jeems, off we are!” The Lovely Lady laughs, even while she holds on to her ears, for she almost knows the doggerel language herself since we, Me and Jeems, took up her education doggedly.
“Hi, Jeems Pitbladdo, there’s a squirrel on that oak! See who’ll get there first!” And off we go.