I remember one day Uncle Loaney coming in and saying to father, "Sure
Mr. Whitney, why don't you kill that old dog? He is good for nothing and
can't stand up any more." That was enough, little brother and I began to
cry and then poor old grandpa, the tears rolled down his cheeks, and
when he could speak he said in his broken English, "Oh don't keel Bob,
you keel Bob me die too. Me and Bob good friends good many year. Oh no
keel Bob." Then father explained what a long time Bob had lived and been
with grandpa and how he had saved brother Toney's life the winter
before. Then how sorry Uncle Loaney was, saying. "Yes let poor Bob live
as long as he can." After that many were the little pails of milk sent
to Bob.