He's only eight months old to-day
I guess he's just a pup;
Pa says he won't be larger
When he is all grown up.
He plays around about the house,
As good as he can be,
He don't seem like a little dog,
He's just like folks to me.
And when it is my bed-time,
Ma opens up the bed;
Then I nestle down real cozy
And just make room for Ted
And oh, how nice we cuddle!
He doesn't fuss or bite,
Just nestles closely up to me
And lays there still all night.
We love each other dearly,
My little Ted and me.
We're just good chums together,
And always hope to be.
MAXINE ANNA BUCK.
LITTLE LOST PUP
He was lost!--Not a shade of doubt of that;
For he never barked at a slinking cat,
But stood in the square where the wind blew raw,
With a drooping ear, and a trembling paw,
And a mournful look in his pleading eye,
And a plaintive sniff at the passer-by
That begged as plain as a tongue could sue,
"Oh, Mister, please may I follow you?"
A lorn, wee waif of a tawny brown
Adrift in the roar of a heedless town.
Oh, the saddest of sights in a world of sin
Is a little lost pup with his tail tucked in!
Well, he won my heart (for I set great store
On my own red Bute, who is here no more)
So I whistled clear, and he trotted up,
And who so glad as that small lost pup?
Now he shares my board, and he owns my bed,
And he fairly shouts when he hears my tread.
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