Soon or late, every dog's master's memory becomes a graveyard; peopled by wistful little furry ghosts that creep back unbidden, at times, to a semblance of their olden lives.

Dogs, the foremost snobs in creation, are quick to notice the difference between a well-clad and a disreputable stranger

Any man with money to make the purchase may become a dog's owner. But no man --spend he ever so much coin and food and tact in the effort-- may become a dog's Master without consent of the dog. Do you get the difference? And he whom a dog once unreservedly accepts as Master is forever that dog's God.

Happiness? That's nothing more than a good health and a poor memory.

Happiness? That's nothing more than health and a poor memory.

Memory is deceptive because it is colored by today's events.