1 A has a wife who loves him much And clings to him with fervour great; But A 's perversity is such He really seems to loathe his mate. I, who am B, observe with pain A's brutal conduct and disdain. 2 I, pining for a soul to love, Procure a small fox terrier, C; When (who can tell the springs which move The canine mind?) she takes to me. She shares my meal. Her nightly doze Is taken on my chest or toes. 3 So, for three long delightful days I thrill with selfish exultation; I laud her most obtrusive ways, I drag her all about the station; At office, dinner, walk, or ride, I like to have her at my side. 4 About my path, about my bed, Come sure and certain as the Fates, The pattering feet, the wistful head, The liquid gaze that—irritates. I fight against a growing chill; I strive to think I love her still. 5 My days grow void of all delight, She follows me to every place; I cannot take my rest at night, She licks devotedly my face. The tail that wags for none but me Becomes a meek monotony. 6 I make no other dog my care (I wish that I could tell her so), Or wander off to places where A good fox terrier should not go. I only want at times to be Alone with no one else but me. 7 I do not care for winning ways From six A.M. till ten at night; I even shun her liquid gaze; I almost wish that she could bite. I cannot thrash her off—I tried. It bound her closer to my side. 8 'Tis wrong to kill, 'tis vain to strike. I will not cast her off—as yet. I have no reason for dislike. I know I ought to love my pet. I know I am a heartless traitor Which makes me more than ever hate her.
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