The Dog

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The dog is the best info for dog lovers.I lernd alot abaot my chihuahua.Her name is Sassy we call her sas_o_frass for short.AAAAAAAAAAA SHE BIT ME!I told her NO!.!Did i do the rite thing? Sassy is a tea cup chihuahua I think.Sassy is cream and white. love,hailey  

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Page 29 - And now I'm in the world alone, Upon the wide, wide sea : But why should I for others groan, When none will sigh for me ? Perchance my dog will whine in vain, Till fed by stranger hands ; But long ere I come back again He'd tear me where he stands.
Page 133 - My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind, So flew'd, so sanded " ; and their heads are hung With ears that sweep away the morning dew ; Crook-knee'd, and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls; Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like bells, Each under each.
Page 60 - He called his child — no voice replied — He searched, with terror wild ; Blood, blood he found on every side, But nowhere found his child. " Hell-hound ! my child's by thee devoured," The frantic father cried ; And to the hilt his vengeful sword He plunged in Gelert's side.
Page 59 - Come, Gelert, come ! Wert never last Llewelyn's horn to hear. " Oh, where does faithful Gelert roam, The flower of all his race ? So true, so brave — a lamb at home, A lion in the chase.
Page 93 - But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend, The first to welcome, foremost to defend, Whose honest heart is still his master's own, Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone...
Page 59 - Twas only at Llewellyn's board The faithful Gelert fed, He watched, he served, he cheered his lord, And sentinel'd his bed. In sooth he was a peerless hound, The gift of royal John ; But now no Gelert could be found, And aL1 the chase rode on.
Page 102 - How he had got all the divisions collected in the dark is beyond my comprehension. The charge was left entirely to himself from midnight until the rising...
Page 61 - And marbles storied with his praise Poor Gelert's bones protect. Here never could the spearman pass, Or forester, unmoved ; Here oft the tear-besprinkled grass, Llewellyn's sorrow proved. And here he hung his horn and spear, And oft as evening fell, In fancy's piercing sounds would hear Poor Gelert's dying yell ! And till great Snowdon's rocks grow old, And cease the storm to brave, The consecrated spot shall hold The name of Gelert's grave.
Page 102 - He was scarcely a year old, and knew so little of herding, that he had never turned a sheep in his life; but as soon as he discovered that it was his duty to do so, and that it obliged me, I can never forget with what anxiety and eagerness he learned his different evolutions.
Page 60 - O'erturned his infant's bed he found, The blood-stained covert rent ; And all around, the walls and ground With recent blood besprent.

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