If No One Gave It Him, He Would Then Take It Out
Himself And Eat It.
Now it came to pass that during the last year of the war dog-biscuits,
like many other articles of food for man and beast, grew scarce, and
were finally not to be had at all.
At all events, that was what
happened in Dandy's town of Penzance. He missed his biscuits greatly
and often reminded us of it by barking; then, lest we should think he
was barking about something else, he would go and sniff and paw at the
empty box. He perhaps thought it was pure forgetfulness on the part of
those of the house who went every morning to do the marketing and had
fallen into the habit of returning without any dog-biscuits in the
basket. One day during that last winter of scarcity and anxiety I went
to the kitchen and found the floor strewn all over with the fragments
of Dandy's biscuit-box. Dandy himself had done it; he had dragged the
box from its place out into the middle of the floor, and then
deliberately set himself to bite and tear it into small pieces and
scatter them about. He was caught at it just as he was finishing the
job, and the kindly person who surprised him in the act suggested that
the reason of his breaking up the box in that way that he got something
of the biscuit flavour by biting the pieces.
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