My name is Tim, and I am only a rough-haired terrier dog, so you must not mind if I make mistakes in this story, because it is the first time I have ever told a real, story book one.
I thought perhaps you would like to hear about some of the people I met the first time I went on a visit with my master.
We went to stay at a big house in the country. There were no other houses round it, only lots and lots of trees, and they kept the houses away, I expect.
When we first arrived, I kept pretty quiet the train had made me feel rather queer in my legs. I wasn't frightened; none of our family are ever frightened of anything—certainly not of a silly old train that doesn't even know how to growl properly.
Well, after I began to get used to things, I went out into the garden to see if I could find someone to play with. It was rather dull without Jo. He is my brother, but he isn't old enough to go visiting like I do.
At first there did not seem to be anyone about at all. Then I saw an old wooden tub. I went and had a look at that. I have found some funny things in tubs before now—sticks and boats, bits of cork that give you a pain inside if you eat them—but never have I seen such a funny thing as there was in this tub.
It was very small, with shiny black hair, a shiny red face, and it was swimming about just like a fish. It smiled at me all the time, too. I didn't like that a bit, so I barked as loud as I could; but it made no difference. I could not make it out, and I got very angry, so I walked off with my tail in the air.
In a sunny corner I found the Duke and Duchess. They were very rude to me indeed. In fact, the Duchess spat at me, just like the common Tabby family do at home.
I very soon left them, and then I found Laddie, the fine old Scotch collie, but he wasn't much fun; he is nearly deaf, and he was very busy staring at some white woolly lambs on green stands. Laddie loves those lambs; he once ate one when he was young. He told me so himself, and—it was much worse than eating cork. Then I heard a great deal of barking, growling and snarling.
I knew it must be Bob, the bull dog. I had been longing to fight him ever since I came. I ran to the field as fast as I could, my heart beating very hard, for Bob had boasted to me of all the fights he had won, and I was thirsting to beat him.
Then I saw him, tearing down the field, his tail tucked in between his legs, his ears laid flat. He was running away from the old red bull. He had made faces at him, and then ran away when the bull pretended to chase him. I wasn't going to fight him after that. I wouldn't run away from an old bull.
Bob ran into the kitchen, and pretended to be asleep when I spoke to him.
I went back to the tub after that, and I just went straight up to the funny, smiling thing, and—I kissed it. After that, we were great friends, and had lovely games every day till I went away. I wonder if Bob ever plays with it. I will fight him if he does.