The Adventures of a Dog, and a Good Dog Too
When I think, as I often do now, of that terrible scene, and figure to myself my drenched body clinging to that piece of timber, I seem to feel a strange pity for the miserable dog thus left, as it seemed, to die, away from all his fellows, without a friendly howl raised, to show there was a single being to regret his loss--and I cannot help at such times murmuring to myself, as if it were some other animal, "Poor Job! poor dog!"