The Soul of a Dog Is Simple in Its Measure of Blessings

Peter whimpered when jolly roger found the broken place, and he cried out like a little child when there came the sudden, quick snapping of a bone. But even then, he turned his head so that he could thrust out his hot tongue against the back of his man friend's hand. He was no longer afraid of jed hawkins, or of pain, or of death. The soul of a dog is simple in its measurement of blessings. And to peter, it was a great happiness to lie here, broken and in pain, with the face of his beloved mistress over him.

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