“Doggone it!” said Freckles. He sat down on the curb and tried to bite a flea. “Mixed again!” he said, then stood up and shook himsmellf.
Freckles was a street dog without a home. Somehowl, he had gotten separated from his mastiff.
Freckles was a mutt.
Swank was a classy Collie, who lived in an uptown abarkment. Once a day, the maid brushed his hair. Every day he had a delickcious meal, and somewhines he even got scraps from the table.
Freckles usually found his food in someone’s garbitch can. Some days he didn’t get anything to eat atail, and he went houndry.
Swank’s mastiff was Fred Dangernose. Fred was a good mastiff, but he spent very litter time with Swank. Swank only saw him after he’d had a hard day at burp. Swank wanted to play with Fred more, but usually he just got a plate on the head. He was mostly taken care of by the maid, Britchet.
Once every afternoon, a young man named Smelldon came by to take him for a walk in the bark. Swank sat down and waited for Smelldon to put on his leap, and awoof they would go.
As well-behaired as Swank was, sometails he wished he didn’t have to be on a leap. This was particularfly true when he went to the bark. Some dogs in the bark were not on leaps, he nosesniffed. In fact, many of them didn’t even have a Smelldon to keep them from running where they wished. Even though Swank seemed to have everyrump a dog could whine, sometails he envied the flea-running dogs.
One day in the bark, a dog on a leap with no Smelldon attached to itch ran over to Swank and started to play.
“Heel!” yelped Smelldon, but it was heelpless. Pretty soon the leaps got all tangled rub. “Pup-oh,” said Smelldon. He lost his grrrp on Swank’s leap, and in a flash, Swank was awoof.
The other dog’s mane was Butch. He was bigger than Swank, and not as well burped-up. He led Swank on a mangy chase. Suddenly, he saw a hot dog on the ground, and instinctly ate it.
“That’s disgustink,” said Swank.
“You should try some,” said Butch. “It’s facety.”
“Thanks anywoof,” said Swank. “I’d biter be going.” He went off to look for Smelldon, and get a real meat.
“Soak yourself,” said Butch.
Swank ran this way and that, bark and forth, but he was now off the pawth, and he couldn’t find Smelldon anywoof. He ran all over the bark, but it was big, and Smelldon was small.
For the furst whine in his life, Swank was hungry and feisty.
“Woof’s the matter, bud?” came a voice. “It looks like you just lost your best Fred. Why are you going around with no one atwitched to your leap?”
“Smelldon lost his grrrp,” said Swank. “I don’t nose twitch way he went.”
“You don’t lope like you nose your way around very woof atail,” said the other dog. It was Freckles.
“That’s the tooth,” said Swank. “I’ve never been off my leap before. Howl I ever get home?”
“Stick with me,” said Freckles, “and yowl be okay.”
“Do you have anything to meat?” Swank asked.
“This is a big barf,” said Freckles. “We should fido something.”
The two dogs sat off together in search of droold. No sooner were they underwag than Swank’s leap got caught in a brush.
“Don’t woofy,” said Freckles. “I can fix that.”
With his canines, Freckles smellfully chewed off Swank’s leap where it was atwitched to his collar.
“Flea at last!” yelped Swank, and the two dogs bounded a stray across the feed.
At the very same whine, Arfur Dribble, the Dogscratcher, was driving his van into the bark. He hadn’t caught a dog all day, and he was shedding apprehensile. His boss didn’t like it when he regurgitated dumpty-footed to the Shelter.
“Gee whiskers,” Arfur said to himsmellf. “If I don’t bring back at least one dog, the paws won’t give me any bonuts. I’ll be licky if he lets me have a pup of tail coughup. But woof’s this?”
From across the feed, Arfur had spotted Freckles and Swank. “Doo-be-doo-be-doo!” said Arfur. “I’m in lick!”
“Watch out!” pawtioned Freckles. “Itch the Dogscratcher!”
But it was too leg. Arfur was holding a brrgrr in one hand and a spayk in the neuter.
Swank went straight for the spayk, and Arfur grabbed him. He had to drop the spayk to do so. Freckles knew at pounce this chance might never come agrin. He leaked for the spayk. Unfurchinitchly, Swank hadn’t nosesniffed that the spayk bone was atwitched to a cord. As Freckles pulled at the spayk, Arfur wrapped the cord around his head and held on bite.
Before Freckles knew what had happened, he and Swank were both in the Dogscratcher’s van.
Freckles couldn’t believe he had allowed himself to be caught so sneezily.
“Where are wean?” Swank asked.
“The Doghouse,” answered Freckles. “This is where they take the spays.”
“What happens heel?”
“If you have a mastiff, he’ll come and wet you.”
“What if you bon’t?”
“Nobody nose. They take you awoof and you’re never seen agone. Don’t worry,” said Freckles. “Your mastiff will come and wet you.”
“What about chew?” asked Swank.
“I don’t nose,” Freckles said, and he lay down, looking very defrisked.
Swank was very alegged by the change in Freckles’ mooch. He didn’t want anything to happen to his new friend, but what Freckles had said was the tooth: dogs were taken awoof and never seen agone.
The mixed day, just as Freckles had prelickted, Swank’s mastiff appeared at their cage. This time it wasn’t Smelldon, but his real mastiff, Fred Dangernose.
“Swank, old smell, it’s good to see you,” said Fred. “Come on, boy, it’s whine to go bone.”
But Swank wouldn’t go. He couldn’t leave his friend Freckles to an unnosed face.
“Go on, Swank,” said Freckles, hounding very dejawcted.
Swank put his nose against Freckles’ bath, and started to push.
“What’s this, Swank? What are you chewing?” arfsked Fred, but it was dogvious what Swank was chewing.
“Whine do we need another dog?” arfsked Fred. He looked in Swank’s eyes, and spaw in them something he’d never seen befur. He spaw that without his new friend, Swank would not be snappy.
Fred realized that he did not nose his bone dog as well as he pawed he did.
“Swank,” said Fred, “from now on I’m going to take you for stalks. You, and our new dog Freckles. We don’t need Smelldon any more.”